


the longest infinity

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: Rosaline Capulet does not believe in soulmates. But on her 23rd birthday, she starts dreaming of him - but finds that when she wakes she can't remember his name. Is he in a rival Fraternity? Or is he her artist roommate - or that Hufflepuff her friends tried setting her up with? She sees him every night in her dreams but she needs to figure out who he is outside of them.Benvolio Montague has always wanted a soulmate. He's had dreams since his 23rd birthday but never of her. Just when he's lost all hope, he sees her face. She wants to be friends with benefits. But she's also the history teacher across the hall - and she's the person trying to kill him. But no matter what, it's always her. He only remembers her face, but he won't stop until he finds her.





	1. but for now we stay so far

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here it is. Let's see if I can finish it.
> 
> Note, there are a TON of AUs in this fic. I'll be tagging accordingly as they show up. This is primarily Rosaline/Benvolio, but there is a side of Romeo/Juliet, Paris/Livia, and Isabella/Livia with mentions of one-sided Rosaline/Escalus.
> 
> Maii, Marie, and Amirah are my biggest cheerleaders and I owe SO MUCH of this to them. Whether it's beta work, reading over my outline, just yelling at me to work on this, or telling me I CAN do it... they're amazing.
> 
> (Also Grace, but whatever.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosaline turns 23 and dreams.

Rosaline doesn’t believe in soulmates.

She believes in love, in falling in love. She believes in finding that special someone to spend the rest of her life with, as she saw with her parents, who were completely in love. They lived, raised a family, then they died, still in love; but they were not soulmates. Her aunt and uncle, married for years and parents to her cousin Juliet, were only soulmates in name - in dreams. In reality, they acted like strangers, barely touching, barely speaking, barely even  _ looking _ at each other.

So on the eve of her twenty-third birthday, minutes away from midnight; Rosaline knows that she’ll dream, and dream of  _ someone _ \- but she doesn’t believe they will be her soulmate.

“Stop frowning so much,” says her sister, climbing onto the bed beside her. Livia pulls her cheeks and Rosaline grimaces. “You can’t meet your soulmate looking so sad!”

Rosaline rolls her eyes and removes Livia’s hands. “I’ll be sleeping, Liv.” She wiggles her fingers by her temple. “It’s all in my head, remember?”

Frowning, Livia sits on her hands but doesn’t move. Juliet sits at their feet. “Yes, it’s in your head, but - you still want to look your best, right?” Curling her knees into her chest, Juliet smiles, eyes clouded over and thoughts clearly elsewhere. “You want to feel good when you meet him the first time.”

“It could be a her, Jules.” Livia busies her hands by fluffing the pillows and even slaps Rosaline’s hand away when she tries to stop her. “Stop that.”

Rosaline sighs, glancing at her clock -  _ 11:57pm _ \- and slips her feet under her blankets. “Why are  _ you  _ fussing so much?  _ I’m _ the one supposedly about to dream of the love of my life.”

“Have a little faith, Ros,” says Livia. “You’re the first one of us to have her dreams! It’s exciting. Let us live vicariously through you.”

Biting back her smile, Rosaline shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything to protest. She travels through life with her sister and her cousin flanking her on either side; it seems appropriate that this is how would fall asleep on this night. 

Juliet strokes her hair with a gentle smile. “I hope you find your Romeo, Rosaline.”

“You don’t know that Romeo is - “

“I do,” says Juliet, eyes slightly glazed again, but even in the glow of her cheeks, there’s a hard determination in her jaw. “Romeo is my soulmate. And in a couple years, when  _ I _ turn twenty-three, I’ll dream of us, together.”

Rosaline exchanges a brief look with Livia, who bites her lip. She isn’t quite sure if it’s in amusement or concern. Sighing, Rosaline takes both of their hands and squeezes. “In any case, I’m glad you’re both here.”

Her phone starts vibrating. Juliet brightens, quicking turning off the alarm as the  _ 12:00 _ blinks back. Livia lets out a tiny squeal. “It’s happening!” She jumps off the bed, pulling Juliet with her, and kisses her sister on the head. “Goodnight, Ros!”

Rosaline frowns as they escape the room. “Liv, you sleep in here - “

The door shuts with a  _ click _ .

Sighing, she sinks into bed. She’s been working on job applications and editing her resume all day - her eyes blur behind their lids when she finally closes them. The black is tinged with blue, a remnant of her screen usage. She’s exhausted.

But her mind - her mind keeps whirling, unfocused images of possibilities racing past her. Will she like her soulmate? Does she know her soulmate already? Will  _ they _ like  _ her _ ? 

Does she even have a soulmate?

The last thought fades slowly, echoing in and out of her brain as she eventually falls asleep.

* * *

 

_ The Saturday before classes begin after spring break, the Zeta Beta Zeta house rests easy, between chaotic and abandoned. Rosaline sinks into the couch of the living room, across from Isabella in an armchair, silently eating her cereal. _

_ “Are you done moping yet?” Isabella doesn’t look up from the magazine she is reading. “Because I’ve put up with it all break and I’m going to be upset if we have to finish the semester with mopey, unfun you.” _

_ Rosaline sighs, swallowing a spoonful of cheerios. “I’m not moping.” _

_ Isabella laughs. “And I’m Dad’s favorite.” She snorts, closing her magazine - one of Livia’s fashion inspirations - and tosses it onto the coffee table. “Do you want a suggestion?” _

_ “No.” She pauses - and then sighs, taking in her sweatpants, her greasy hair, and the itch in her chest that can’t seem to go away. “Fine. What?” _

_ “You know that nothing would make me happier than you and my brother - together. Happy.” Isabella sighs, scooting to the edge of her seat, elbows on her knees. “But you know as well as I do, if Escalus has completely made up his mind - “ _

_ “He’s too stubborn to change it.” Rosaline leans back, watching the ceiling stare back at her in silence. “Yeah, that’s your brother.” _

_ “And I love him,” says Isabella, shifting to the couch now, placing a hand on Rosaline’s knee. “But I love you, too. And you need to move on.” _

_ Rosaline snorts. “Easier said than done, Iz.” _

_ Isabella’s hand retreats to her lap, but she tilts her head. “I know exactly what you need.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “You need to fuck the guy out of your system.” _

_ Rosaline almost chokes on the cheerios still in her mouth. “Isabella!” She puts down her bowl and turns in her seat. “Seriously?” _

_ “I’m dead serious,” says Isabella, back straight and eyes thoughtful. “Just find someone - attractive, single, agreeable - and just…a one night stand. No strings.” She shrugs, swinging her legs off the couch. “It helps me.” _

_ Rosaline frowns. “Who are you - “ _

_ “Just try it,” interrupts Isabella smoothly, picking up Livia’s magazine and heading out the living room. “When have I ever given you bad advice?” _

_ Of course, the honest answer is  _ always _ , but Rosaline decides that in this particular case, Isabella’s plan has some merit. Curled up on the couch alone, she considers: maybe spending a night with someone else  _ would _ help. But who did she know that was single, attracted to women, and not the guy she was trying to get over? _

_ The answer hits her all at once, immediately, with a strong amount of resigned dread. _

_ She could almost  _ hear  _ her friends’ laughter. _

* * *

 

Rosaline snaps awake.

Across the room, Livia turns and yawns. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” says Rosaline, massaging her neck. Everything remains vivid - she can still taste the cereal on her tongue, hear Isabella’s confident voice, feel her own realization on the edges of her mind. “I remember - Isabella, and I, we were in college - in a  _ sorority  _  - “ Shaking her head, Rosaline slips down to rest her head on her pillows. “Escalus.”

“Wait, Escalus? Is he your soulmate?” Rosaline likely imagines the surprise in Livia’s voice. It’s late, after all. “That’s… interesting.”

“No,” says Rosaline, and even though she doesn’t know why, she knows she’s being truthful. “It’s not Escalus. I - I didn’t see  _ him _ yet.”

Livia yawns again and Rosaline hears the ruffling of sheets. Her sister slips into her own bed without permission and Rosaline rolls her eyes as she scoots over and turns onto her side. “Well, I hear it’s different for everyone.” Livia’s eyes stay closed, even she mutters. “Sometimes it’s like…a fantasy world. Other times it can be like - the future - or just... inserting him… into your existing reality - “ The final words are clouded by yawns and her deep breathing as Livia falls back asleep.

Smiling, Rosaline strokes Livia’s hair gently. She flips to her back and closes her eyes. If nothing else, she’ll always have her sister. 

And it’s with that thought she welcomes sleep once more.


	2. ‘til our lonely limbs collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benvolio wakes up and Rosaline has a request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! I'm super excited about writing this fic so I hope you're enjoying reading it.

Benvolio’s always wanted a soulmate.

When his parents died, he was too young to remember if they were in love or not. But he remembers  _ feeling  _ loved; like he could explore and make mistakes and still have a place to call home. But then his parents died, he moved in with his cousin, and only when he was with his best friends did he ever have that feeling again. 

Romeo, of course, will have a soulmate. His romantic ideals, conveyed in horrible poetry and cheesy serenades, make it all but certain. And for all his cynicism, Mercutio  _ has _ a soulmate. Adrian’s nothing like his boyfriend - calm, composed, and in a profession aimed at helping others, not robbing them. Different in many regards, Mercutio and Adrian fit together in so many other ways.

But Benvolio isn’t Romeo, and he isn’t Mercutio. For two months he’s dreamed; but each night, he feels empty. Lost. Something’s  _ missing. _ A soulmate seems out of reach.

But on this night, Benvolio opens his eyes and lets out a deep breath.

“You awake?” he whispers into the darkness.

Romeo groans. “No.” A pause before a deep sigh and the rustle of sheets. “What’s up?” The light on Romeo’s nightstand clicks on. “You have a weird dream again?”

Benvolio continues to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, but - this one felt different.”

“Different how?”

“Before - ” Benvolio frowns. “It was just me, or you guys, people I knew. Just - in different worlds. Different universes.”

Romeo yawns, his voice a bit muffled. “And this time?”

Benvolio closes his eyes, revisiting the image flashing behind his eyelids. “This time - I finally saw her.”

* * *

_ The Kappa Tau house is a mess. _

_ Benvolio knows this, even from the relatively clean sanctuary of his own room. With the floorboard creaking every time a brother sneaks out their companion from the previous night, he remains in his bed, fully clothed and feet on the floor. In this moment, he regrets letting Mercutio throw a ‘spring break is over!’ party without him present. _

_ He thinks he hears shouting, and when something crashes downstairs, Benvolio sighs. He doesn’t move. _

_ Then, loudly - a mangled bird call. “KA CAW! KA CAW! It’s here for  _ you _ , Benvolio - ” Mercutio’s cut off with a sudden yelp. “Ow! Fine!  _ She’s _ here for you, Ben!” His voice lowers. “Damn woman. That hurt.” _

_ “Good.” _

_ Groaning, Benvolio sits up in his bed. As he stands, he flattens out the wrinkles in his clothes. He’s still dressed nicely after his early morning meeting with his Uncle, but his tie hangs loosely from his collar and he’s unbuttoned the top of his shirt. As he kicks open his door, he folds back his sleeves.  _

_ He grins when he looks down the stairs. “Well, well, well - looks like someone missed me!” _

_ Rosaline rolls her eyes, eying the spill on the second step with disgust. “Is there anywhere not disgusting that we could talk?” Her eyes scan Mercutio; he only wears a towel. “Alone?” _

_ “Come on up.” Somehow, he manages to not laugh as she carefully maneuvers between unidentified spills and trash to reach him at the top of the stairs. His lips quirk upward, though. When he waves her into his room, Benvolio smiles. “Welcome to the only safe zone in this entire house.” _

_ Rosaline glances at him out of the corner of her eye as she walks in. He thinks he imagines it, but she seems - embarrassed? Shy? It must be his imagination; Rosaline Capulet would never be embarrassed to be in his room. Frightened? Likely. Disgusted? Absolutely. But not  _ embarrassed.

_ No matter what she’s feeling, Rosaline pauses as she searches his room. And all of sudden,  _ he’s _ embarrassed - scattered papers cover his desk and abandoned textbooks gather dust in the corner. There is a towel on the floor, right by her feet, and he must have missed the hamper last night, since his clothes litter the floor too. He quickly stuffs them back in as Rosaline pauses by his desk. _

_ “I thought you were an architecture major.” Her fingers graze over random sketches littered across his desk.  _

_ “Uh, I am,” he says, kicking his alcohol stash back under his bed. “Drawing - just a hobby. Something to do on the side.” Mercutio must have used his room, because there are wrappers and crumbs scattered on his nightstand and pillows. Frowning, he pushes them to the floor. He decides to make Mercutio vacuum his room later. _

_ “You’re really - “ Her voice stops, and Benvolio pauses mid-cleaning. She stares at one particular drawing; it’s Romeo and Mercutio, playing poker, chips between their fingers and cards scattered across the table. “Wow.” _

_ Benvolio rubs the back of his neck, his face growing warmer. “It’s nothing, really.”  _

_ Rosaline shakes her head, turning to him, dropping the drawing back onto his desk and stepping closer to him. “No, seriously, Ben - these are really good.” Looking down, Benvolio shrugs, unsure what to say - a fire uncoils in his stomach, warm and unending, and he wishes she would change the subject. And when he looks back up, in fact, Rosaline stares at the trash can next to his desk and frowns. “Oh.” _

_ He follows her gaze and spots it - a very used condom, curled up on top an empty bottle of lube and several wrappers of tootsie rolls. _

_ He’s going to  _ kill  _ Mercutio. After he burns his sheets. _

_ “That’s - ” he starts, but decides having Rosaline in his room at all is just too much. “What did you need anyway?” _

_ Rosaline blinks, looking back at him, before straightening her back. Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Raising an eyebrow, he gestures for her continue. She closes her eyes. _

_ “I need you to platonically sleep with me.” _

_ His heart stops, probably. “ _ What _?”  _

_ “I need you to platonically sleep with me.” She shifts her weight to her other foot. “Like. Sex. I need you to have sex with me. But - as a friend.” _

_ Benvolio blinks, the words still echoing in his head. “No - I got  _ that _. Why - why?” _

_ Crossing her arms over her chest, she glares. “You’re the only straight, single guy I know that I’m not currently in love with.” _

_ It’s too much all at once. Words are too hard - thoughts are racing, jumbled and confused, and Benvolio feels like he may going insane. So, he speaks, without really knowing what he’s saying. “You know I’m not straight, right?” _

_ “What?” A curse quickly leaves her lips. “Are you  _ kidding _ me - “ _

_ “No!” For some reason, he feels like he needs to clarify, make it clear that while he’s not  _ straight _ , he’s definitely still - interested. “I mean - I’m bi.” _

_ Rosaline visibly relaxes. “Oh. Okay. Then yeah, my offer still stands.” _

_ Offer. A business deal. A transaction. _

_ Benvolio tries not to grimace. “Say that with less feeling, why don’t you?” _

_ Her frown does little to ease the tension in his chest. “I want to be clear. One time only. I just - I just need a distraction, okay? No strings, no - ” her face twists just slightly. “No feelings, no repeats. Just sex.” _

_ Just sex. Just sex. Just sex. _

_ In the pit of his stomach, Benvolio knows he should say no. Let her down easy, help her find another way - a  _ better _ way - to get over her heartbreak. But his heart - his heart has captured control of his mouth before his brain has time to completely process. _

_ “Okay,” he says. Surprise flickers across her face before a smile slowly sits on her lips. “One time. Sex. That’s it.” Benvolio sticks out his hand, cursing himself as he does. “Deal?” _

_ Rosaline looks at his hand, frowns, and bites her lip. Benvolio can’t believe he no longer has to imagine what it will feel like to do that himself.  _

_ She takes his hand. “Deal.” _

* * *

When Benvolio wakes up, the sun has risen. It beats down against his face between the blinds on the windows and he squints as he stretches out. 

His hand pauses right before his face. He can still feel her hand in his, gripping it tightly - can still remember the sight of her, biting her lip, the sudden urge to grab her and kiss her so overwhelming - 

Benvolio is no stranger to his morning erection, but this one feels especially uncomfortable. But her face still pulses behind his eyelid with each blink and excitement quickly rises. Swinging his legs out of bed, he throws open the door to his shared room with Romeo and grabs his laptop sitting on the coffee table in the living room.

Romeo, sitting on the couch with a bowl in his lap, raises an eyebrow. “Um, dude,” he says, swallowing a spoonful of cereal, “I know morning wood sucks, but porn so early? And in the living room? I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

Benvolio barely registers his cousin, or the fact that he currently sits shirtless and only in gym shorts. “Fuck you,” he says without thinking, quickly pulling open a new browser. His fingers hovers over the keyboard. “I’m trying to look up - “

Nothing. His mind is completely blank, unable to pick out  _ anything _ from the memories of his dreams.  _ Nothing _ . 

“Shit!” Benvolio slams closed his laptop and shoves it back onto the table. “ _ Shit _ .”

“What?”

“I don’t know her name.” He may be pouting, but mostly his fist tenses and loosens in his lap.

Romeo, however, laughs - cackles, really, head thrown back and hands clutching his sides. Benvolio rolls his eyes, which of course only sends Romeo into more laughter.

When Romeo’s laughter transitions to hiccups, Mercutio walks out of his own room, hair a mess and hands wiping sleep from his eyes. He raises an eyebrow. “It’s too early for shenanigans. What’s so funny?”

Romeo breathes slowly, chuckling as he heads to the kitchen to put away his bowl. “Ben - ” he shakes his head, laughter threatening to choke him. Benvolio sinks lower into his seat. “He doesn’t know her name!”

Mercutio turns to Benvolio. “Are you serious? You finally saw her?” Benvolio nods, wiping a hand through his hair. Mercutio grins. “But you don’t know her name?”

“No,” grumbles Benvolio, crossing his arms over his chest. Now he’s certain he’s pouting. “I can’t believe this. It’s been two months!”

Still grinning, Mercutio takes Romeo’s vacated spot on the couch. “So that means today’s her birthday.” 

Benvolio sits up straighter. “Oh shit, you’re right.” He deflates just as quickly, however. “But there are so many people with a birthday today. All over the world.”

Mercutio shrugs stretching out his feet. His toe pokes Benvolio’s thigh. “Sure, but you’ll find her. That’s how it works.”

Frowning, Benvolio shoves away Mercutio’s foot, Romeo’s laughter still echoing in his ears, and stands. “For you.”

Mercutio smirks. “I can’t  _ believe _ you don’t know her name.”

Benvolio glares and stalks off to his room. Just as he enters, he hears Romeo shouting over the sink, his hands hidden in dishes with rubber gloves up his arms. “Oh, Jules invited us to a party tomorrow! You’re coming.”

Benvolio kicks the door shut. Looking down, his morning wood stares back, mocking him. 

He grabs his towel and heads to the shower.


	3. i can’t keep you in these arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosaline needs a roommate and Benvolio needs several drinks.

_ Are you sure you want to do this?” Rosaline leans the box in her arms against the side of the car. “Moving in together is a huge step - “ _

_ Juliet grins, taking the box from her. “I’m positive, Ros. I love him. This will be great.” _

_ Rosaline opens her mouth to object, but Romeo appears from out of the building, a backpack slung across his shoulder. “That’s all of it!” He catches Juliet when she jumps into his arms. “We’re moving in together!” _

_ Behind Romeo, Benvolio crosses his arms and frowns. He meets Rosaline’s eyes over the couple, but Rosaline quickly looks away, grimacing. Even if they shared mutual concern and disgust over their cousins’ decisions, that doesn’t mean they have to  _ bond _ over it. _

_ Juliet, somehow, manages to separate herself from her boyfriend. She reaches for a hug and Rosaline squeezes tightly. Even if her face doesn’t show it, she’ll miss her cousin terribly - first Livia, now Juliet -  _

_ “Are you going to be okay?” asks Juliet, still holding her, but studying her face now. “I know it’ll be hard - Livia being so far away, and now I’m moving - ” _

_ “You’ll be a five minute drive, Jules.” Rosaline shakes her head, smiling, likely genuinely. “I’ll be fine.” Maybe.   _

_ Juliet frowns, still staring. She opens her mouth - but then closes it again, quickly, glancing backwards to Romeo before lower her voice. “Have you thought anymore about that thing we talked about earlier - ” _

_ “No,” says Rosaline, quickly, her eyes flickering back to Benvolio, who’s now helping Romeo tie Juliet’s bike to the roof of her car. “I don’t think it’d work.” _

_ “Because he’s a guy?” _

_ “No, because he’s - ” Rosaline waves her hand and Juliet rolls her eyes. “A Montague.” _

_ Juliet raises an eyebrow, a tiny grin on her face. “I’m living with a Montague.” _

_ “My point exactly.” _

_ Juliet laughs, drawing the attention of her boyfriend, who blows her a kiss. Rosaline tries not to laugh at Benvolio’s pretend gagging. Turning back to her, Juliet holds her forearms. Even if she’s the older and taller one, somehow Rosaline feels like  _ she’s  _ the one being left behind. “I’m going to be real for a second here, okay?” Rosaline rolls her eyes but doesn’t interrupt. “You need a roommate. You can’t afford this place by yourself. Benvolio needs a new place to live since his lease is up. It’s a win-win for everyone.” _

_ Rosaline looks over at Benvolio. Benvolio stares at his phone, Romeo now in the driver’s seat of the car. “I’ll think about it,” she finally says. _

_ Juliet beams. “Good!” She hugs her cousin. “I love you, don’t be boring, our first party will be next weekend!” _

_ And even as Juliet slips into the passenger seat, Rosaline laughs and waves. Juliet and Romeo wave back. The car drives away, leaving the street silent, just her and Benvolio standing on the sidewalk. _

_ Rosaline looks over at her reluctant companion. Benvolio looks up from his phone, eyes flashing for a brief moment before his eyebrow raises. “What?” _

_ Biting her lip, her eyes flicker at the little black dot that is her cousin and her boyfriend before resting back on Benvolio. She sighs. “You need a place to live, right?” _

_ “Yes.” Benvolio turns to face her completely, back suddenly straight. “And you need a roommate, right?” _

_ “Right.”  _

_ The silence is uncomfortable and almost deafening. A car drives past the street and somewhere in the distance, she thinks she hears someone laughing. He doesn’t look away though. _

_ “You know we’d kill each other, right?” he finally says, hands in his pockets. There’s a tug at his lips. “Besides the fact that I can’t stand you, I’m pretty sure we’re fundamentally very different people.” _

_ Rosaline crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m well aware.” _

_ His eyes flicker downwards for a moment before returning to hers. “I get up really early. I usually take up living room space for setting up to draw and paint and shit.” _

_ “I’m a morning person,” she says, shrugging. “And I write in my room.” Her head tilts. “I hate hosting parties and I’m not a huge fan of overnight guests.” Without meaning to, her gaze flickers downwards - he’s still sweaty from helping move Juliet’s things and the t-shirt he wears is a little too tight for liking.  _

_ Benvolio grins and she feels her face growing warm. “Of course you’re not.” He steps forward. “Don’t worry, Capulet, you and I will spend our nights with only each for company.” _

_ “You’re assuming I want you to move in.” Rosaline shifts her weight back. “Besides, I’m a sponge and towel kind of girl. Don’t use a dishwasher.” _

_ If possible, Benvolio smirks even wider. “Perfect. I usually order take-out anyway.” _

_ Rosaline bites back a laugh. _

_ Benvolio steps even closer to her, his face so different to what she usually sees from him - now, it’s almost blinding, his smile against the bright sunlight. Blinking, she lowers her arms and he leans forward. “So, what’re you doing Saturday?” he asks, a stage whisper, his voice light - but there’s that undercurrent of -  _ are you sure?

_ Rosaline leans forward too, smiling despite herself. He smells like salt and deodorant; she doesn’t find it terribly unpleasant. “Not helping you move in.”  _

_ Benvolio laughs and Rosaline wonders why she doesn’t mind the sound. _

* * *

“I’m still upset you didn’t let us put up streamers.”

Rosaline glares at Isabella, who smirks as she takes a sip of her wine while she sits at the kitchen counter. Sighing, Rosaline rips open a bag of chips and dumps it in a bowl. “I agreed to let you guys throw a party. It’s not for my birthday. It’s just a party.”

“That we threw on your  _ birthday weekend _ ,” says Juliet, sitting right beside Isabella, drinking a glass of white wine to Isabella’s red. She moves to snatch a chip, but Rosaline slaps her hand away. Rolling her eyes, she grabs one from the open bag. “But fine, whatever, no one will mention that it’s your birthday.”

“Thank you.”

Isabella swirls her drink and takes a long sip. Her eyes narrow on Rosaline. “So, you going to tell us about last night’s dream yet?”

Rosaline opens her mouth - but Livia walks in, clearly dressed to party. Her sister grabs a chip and chews, leaning against the counter. “Ooh, is she finally gonna tell us about her dream?”

Rosaline glares. “I was about to say  _ no _ , since my dreams aren’t exciting in the least - especially compared to your outfit.”

“What?” Livia looks down at her shorts and flowy top. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“Nothing,” says Isabella, resting her hand on Livia’s arm. “It’s very cute.” 

Rosaline rolls her eyes. ”It is cute. But it’s what you would wear to a party.”

“We’re having a party, aren’t we?” says Juliet, grabbing the whole bag of chips towards her. “And Livia is definitely invited.”

Livia beams. “Thank you.” She shoots a glare at Rosaline before pointedly downing the rest of Isabella’s wine. Isabella watches her swallow with a tiny grin. Livia turns to her sister. “You gonna tell on me for drinking underage?”

Rosaline eats a chip. “I need a shot.”

“Thought so.” Livia turns back to Isabella as Rosaline pours herself a shot of vodka. “Now, did she tell you about the guy yet? Apparently she hates him.”

Juliet laughs. “Of course she does.” She grabs both her empty glass and Isabella’s and places them in the sink. “But let me guess - by the time you wake up, you’re all over each other.”

In that moment, Rosaline is very grateful for her dark complexion and the shot she quickly throws back. She’s saved from answering when Juliet’s phone vibrates against the counter. “Is that the boyfriend?” she asks, taking out a new bowl for the rest of the chips. 

“Yes! They’re heading up now.” Just as she finishes, the doorbell rings. The girls look look at each other.

“Woo, I’ll get the music,” says Isabella, guiding Juliet to the door, where the first bunch of people - friends of Isabella’s, it looks like - enter.

Rosaline turns to her sister. “Don’t get into too much trouble tonight, okay?” 

Livia smiles, nudging her gently. “As long as you get into  _ some _ trouble, okay?” She grins when Rosaline rolls her eyes. “Besides, maybe you’ll run into Mr. Mystery tonight.”

Rosaline shakes her head. “Doubt it.” Crumpling up the empty chip bag, she sighs. “It’s just - so  _ weird _ , you know? I can  _ see him _ in my head - picture him perfectly. But his name?” She waves her hand. “Nothing. It’s frustrating.”

Livia glances over to the growing crowd, including Isabella, the clear center of attention. Rosaline frowns but her sister smiles when she meets her eyes. “I get that. It’ll work out, Ros. It always does.”

Rosaline doesn’t know whether she believes her.

 

 

Benvolio thinks he may already have a headache.

Romeo’s girlfriend - Juliet - is bright and cute, throwing herself in Romeo’s arms when they finally reach the sixth floor apartment. While the music isn’t terribly loud, with the door open, the haunting melody of some pop rock song he vaguely recognizes fills the hallway. Mercutio pushes him through the door, which he then kicks shut.

“Ben, Merc, this is my girlfriend, Juliet.” Romeo beams, arm slung around Juliet’s shoulders. “Jules, this is my cousin and our best friend.” 

“Nice to meet you,” says Benvolio, offering a hand to shake. She does. “We’ve heard - ”

“So, where’s the alcohol?” Mercutio interrupts, arms crossed. Romeo glares, but Benvolio just frowns. Mercutio looks over the crowd, scanning the apartment. “Kitchen?”

Juliet nods. As Mercutio slips past them, they follow, but Benvolio smiles in her direction. “Ignore him, he’s - ”

“Rude,” says Romeo before kissing Juliet on the lips. “Hi.”

She giggles. “Hi.”

Benvolio walks faster.

In the kitchen, Mercutio has already poured out three shots, which he quickly distributes. Without waiting, he throws his back. “Cheers!”

The other woman in the room carefully grabs the bottle from Mercutio, shaking her head in amusement. “One of yours, Jules?”

“Romeo, this is my roommate, Livia. Her sister Rosaline and our friend Isabella - we all live together.” 

Romeo shakes Livia’s hand and as he does, Benvolio frowns. “Nice to meet you,” says Romeo. “I’m - ”

“The new boyfriend,” says Livia, eyes slightly narrowed, scanning the three of them. “You just missed my sister. Apparently Isabella needed a special playlist or something.”

Juliet rolls her eyes. “But  _ my _ music taste just isn’t good enough.”

“Acoustic covers of 80s pop songs isn’t exactly party music, Jules.”

Benvolio leans against the counter, watching Livia and Juliet and Romeo talk; he watches Mercutio drink another shot - the one he had poured for Benvolio, probably - before grabbing a beer from the fridge and disappearing into the living room. His eyes fall back onto Livia.

She looks familiar, somehow.

It feels like he should know who she is.

It’s not  _ her _ . He’d know that. But - 

“Yo, earth to Ben.” Romeo waves a hand in his face. “They need help moving the couches for a dance floor.”

Benvolio blinks. “Right.” He eyes the extra shot still sitting on the counter. When Livia catches his eye and nods, Benvolio grabs it, throws it back, and does his level best not to wince. “Right.”

Romeo laughs, slapping him on the back, before following Mercutio into the crowd, Juliet’s hand in his. Livia raises an eyebrow at him. “So you’re Benvolio.”

Hand in his pockets, he shrugs. “That’s me.” He tilts his head. “We haven’t met before, right?”

Livia grins, stepping closer to him. She gently taps his cheek with her hand. “Nah, I don’t forget pretty faces.” She slips past him and Benvolio shakes his head.

The vodka bottle sits on the counter, lonely and undisturbed. 

Sighing, Benvolio grabs the empty shot glasses, rinses them in sink, and leaves them out on a towel to dry. He reaches the others just in time to stop Romeo from trying to lift the entire couch by himself in a misguided attempt to impress his girlfriend.

* * *

_ Benvolio moves in on Saturday and on Sunday morning, they sit on the living room floor, a white board on the coffee table between them. _

_ “You’re serious.” He watches her carefully write out a list of chores, the days of the week, and both of their names. “Did you do this with Juliet?” _

_ Rosaline glares at him for a second before continuing to write. Her handwriting looks glossy, but the scribbles are almost barely readable. “I didn’t need to.” _

_ “You don’t know if you need to with me, yet.” _

_ Sighing, Rosaline caps the marker. “You’re right. I’d just like to prevent as much trouble as possible.” She bites her lip as she checks her list and Benvolio’s eyes narrow slightly when she adds ‘living room hours.’ _

_ “Um, I wasn’t aware we couldn’t share the living room,” he says, his finger wiping off the words. Rosaline objects, but he ignores her. “You know, a common space. To be shared.” Instead he twists the marker out of her grip and turns the board to face him. “If there’s anything we need to discuss it’s music hours.” _

_ Rosaline raises her eyebrow. “Music hours?” _

_ “I heard you last night. Or, I should say, I heard some awful brooding that was supposed to be singing set to pretentious guitar.” Benvolio shakes his head. “I’m not going to get any work done if you play that during the day.” _

_ “Um, I have to listen to music when I’m writing.” She frowns. “Besides, I heard your weird skrillex-screamo mess that sounds like death. Namely mine. That’s not music.” _

_ Benvolio shrugs. “It keeps me focused. I’m used to screaming when I’m working.” Just as the words leave his mouth, he realizes their implications. Looking away, he rubs his neck. “Um - I’m just - used to that kind of music - ” _

_ “Hey.” Rosaline meets his gaze with a seriousness that forces him to freeze. It’s magnetic. “We’ll just use headphones, okay?” Her gentle voice settles him in a strange way and he nods as his hands lowers to his lap. _

_ His stomach churns and he shifts his weight around as he turns the white board so they both can see it. “We alternate taking out the trash and I’ll clean the bathroom every week if you take the kitchen.” _

_ Rosaline agrees. _

 

 

_ Their routine starts like this: Benvolio usually wakes up to find Rosaline in the kitchen, a pot of coffee already made, drinking as she reads… something. One morning it’s the newspaper. Another time, she scrolls through the internet. He think he’s caught her reading erotica early in the morning once. _

_ After draining the pot of coffee for himself, Benvolio sets up in the corner of the living room. He’s moved a desk out there, set up his brushes and crayons and pencils. It faces the window, so he has some semblance of a view, but it also gives him a perfect outlook of the bathroom. And Rosaline, he quickly learns, showers in the morning. Usually he’s picked the piece he wants to work on first and has set up some sort of to-do list for his day when she comes out.  _

_ Rosaline has two towels - a blue one and a purple one. The blue one is the perfect length, skimming her knees and perfectly tied over her chest. The purple one is just a shy shorter, hovering over the skin of her thighs. Every day, her collarbone stands out in the sunlight, the steam of the shower a halo to her otherwise naked body. Perfectly aware he should not be noticing this, Benvolio always looks away, pretending to be more occupied in his work than his extremely attractive, extremely naked roommate. _

_ But then the day passes and Benvolio focuses on his artwork. Rosaline escapes her room only a few times - to eat and to use the restroom. Once the sun sets, she throws open her door, makes herself dinner, and sits in the living room, watching television shows on her laptop. _

_ By this point, Benvolio’s hands are covered in paint or charcoal, sweat coating his forehead and chest. So when Rosaline sinks into the couch, Benvolio cleans himself up. He takes his nightly shower, pointedly avoiding her eyes when he heads back to his room from their shared bathroom. _

_ At first, Benvolio orders take-out. Chinese. Pizza. Tacos. But he quickly discovers that Rosaline  _ always _ cooks too much - and just enough for him. So after receiving her reluctant permission -  _ “I guess it makes sense - I usually forget about it and it goes bad anyway”  _ \- he starts eating her leftovers. He eats dinner at the kitchen table, watching Rosaline watch her shows, until she yawns and goes to bed. _

_ Benvolio washes all the dishes in the sink - his and hers - and sleeps soon thereafter. _

_ And the next morning, the routine repeats. _

 

 

_ One day, a few weeks after he moved in, Benvolio accidentally pulls out his headphones from his laptop. _

_ Wincing, he quickly lowers the volume before jamming the jack back into the port. But it’s too late - Rosaline swings open her door and crosses her arms. _

_ Benvolio raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry! My bad.” He carefully places his right earbud back in. “Hope I didn’t stop you mid-sentence or something.” _

_ He expects an answer, probably something snarky or sarcastic. Maybe a jab at his music taste. But he doesn’t expect her to sigh, drag her feet, and sink down into the sofa, resting her ankles on the coffee table. He pulls the earbud back out. _

_ “I haven’t been able to write anything for days,” she says, arms still crossed. She gnaws at her bottom lip and Benvolio forces himself not to stare. “What song was that?” _

_ Benvolio glances at his laptop before meeting her gaze again. “Just - some song Mercutio sent me. Some dance pop shit.” _

_ “It wasn’t awful,” she says, leaning her head back. “You can play  _ that _ out loud, if you want.” _

_ Benvolio hesitates; but he pulls out his headphones and repeats the song, gradually raising the volume. Rosaline doesn’t say anything, closing her eyes and reclining on the couch, so he returns to the commissioned sketch in front of him. When the song reaches its last notes, he looks up - Rosaline escapes back to her room and Benvolio moves for his headphones. _

_ But before he can plug them back in, Rosaline returns, her laptop in her hands. “No, no - keep it. Play it one more time, if you don’t mind?” Benvolio obliges, playing the song again, and the clicks of her keyboard clash out of sync with the rhythm. But, somehow, Benvolio finds it comforting; her presence is suddenly comforting. He notices the way the forehead crinkles when she concentrates, or how she lets out a breath between a smile and a nod if certain words click. Even with his focus split between Rosaline and his artwork, his hand moves faster, his fingers sketch deeper, every line seems sharper. _

_ The song ends. _

_ The next song is a remix, scratchy and loud, everything she supposedly hates. But Rosaline doesn’t say anything, just continues writing right there in the living room. _

_ Benvolio bites down a grin and continues drawing. _

_ The next day, after her shower, Rosaline sets up her laptop on the coffee table. She plays her music out loud.  _

_ Benvolio just nods along with the beats and draws. _

* * *

Rosaline hovers by the laptop controlling the music. Isabella had left her in charge, for  _ some reason _ , but since Isabella’s disappearance onto what had become a dance floor, Rosaline just let the a pre-made playlist shuffle.

The song switches just when Juliet appears with her boyfriend. “Ros!” Her cousin, with rosy cheeks and glazed eyes, embraces her and Rosaline tries not to grimace at the strong whiff of alcohol. “Have you met Romeo yet?”

“Not yet.” She shakes Romeo’s sweaty hand. “Nice to meet you, Romeo.”

“You too, Ros!” He speaks loudly to be heard over the speakers, arm never leaving Juliet’s shoulders. “I hear you’re the boring one. You should totally meet my - ”

“Maybe later, babe,” says Juliet, slipping out from under Romeo’s arm. “Can I borrow you for a sec?”

Rosaline doesn’t get a chance to answer before Juliet pulls her into another corner of the room. Over Juliet’s head, she sees the front door open - and Rosaline immediately pulls them into Juliet’s room.

Juliet frowns. “Wait, what happened?”

Rosaline shakes her head as she lets go of her cousin. “Escalus. And Paris. But. Escalus.”

Realization dawning on her face, Juliet nods. “Ah, okay. You do realize you have to go out there eventually, right?” Rosaline glares so Juliet shrugs. “Fine. But - I really do need your help.”

“With what?”

Juliet starts pacing and Rosaline sinks into Isabella’s desk chair. “It’s Romeo.”

“Already? Juliet - ”

“No wait,” says Juliet, stopping and shaking her head. “I really like him, okay? I want this to work out. I  _ know _ it will.” She sits down on the edge of her bed. “I just don’t know how to tell him that - ” she pauses, lowering her voice, “that I don’t want to plan our next date.”

Rosaline, somehow, manages to not burst out laughing. “Seriously?” Juliet nods, biting her lip. Sighing, Rosaline leans forward. “Have you tried  _ talking _ to him about it?” When Juliet opens her mouth but no words escape, Rosaline shakes her head. “Just tell him, Jules.”

“But - ”

“No, just  _ talk _ to him.” Rosaline stands and Juliet follows. “I know this is your first serious relationship - but if you want it to work - ” She sighs, intertwining their arms. “You need to learn to just talk to him about these things.”

Juliet lays her head on Rosaline’s shoulder. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” She looks up at her, tilting her head. “Honestly, how are you still single?

Rosaline looks at the door and not at her. “Never met the right person I guess.”

When the door swings open, she spots Escalus standing by himself in the corner. Rosaline goes in the opposite direction.

 

 

His fingers graze over the titles on the bookshelf. 

He’s impressed; there’s a wide collection of subjects - poetry, science, politics. But it’s the psychology books that catch his eye. In particular, a social psychology textbook, clearly marked  _ used _ with a worn spine and wavy pages. Benvolio can tell it’s been well-read and loved; before he can slip it out of its spot, however, Romeo appears at his side.

“There you are.” Benvolio drops his hand, leaving the book in place, and turns to his cousin. “Juliet disappeared with her roommate - and I need your help, man.”

Benvolio sighs. “With what?”

“So after our first one, Juliet has been planning all our dates.” He sighs, leaning against the bookcase and Benvolio turns to his side. “And - they’ve been amazing, obviously, but I - I just want to show her I can do it too, you know?”

“And?” Benvolio raises an eyebrow. “Have you told her that?” Slowly, Romeo shakes his head and Benvolio has to smile as he rolls his eyes. “Romeo - talk to  _ her. _ Not me.”

“Yeah, but - ”

“No,” says Benvolio, stepping back and deciding it’s time for another shot. “If you want this relationship to work, and I know you do, talk to her. Communicate.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands back in his pocket. “It’s what soulmates would do.”

“Thanks, Ben,” he says, beaming, before it fades into a tiny frown. “How are the dreams going, anyway?”

Benvolio turns away from his cousin, eyeing the group of nursing students taking shots of whiskey. “They’re going.”

Romeo squeezes his shoulder. “You’ll find her, man.”

Benvolio’s eyes drift off to the psychology textbook briefly before snapping back to his cousin and the whiskey. “Yeah, we’ll see.” He starts towards the kitchen. “C’mon, take a shot with me.”

* * *

_ Neither of them leave the apartment much. _

_ It’s mostly because of their jobs - their creative pursuits mean more time alone, more time trying to focus and keep inspiration flowing. When they do leave, it’s usually as a break, as a way to overcome a creative block. _

_ This night, however, after they’ve been living together for two months, Benvolio leaves at night, dressed up with glasses and smelling like cologne.  _

_ “Date?” she asks, trying to keep her focus on her laptop and the very uninteresting article she’s skimming. “You look nice.” _

_ She thinks his ears tint pink, just slightly, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, just hanging out with some friends. Mercutio, Romeo - I think Stella will be there - ” _

_ “Oh, Stella?” _

_ Rosaline internally curses herself. She’s not jealous, she can’t be, because this is the  _ Montague _. Her roommate. Her living companion. Her - well, her friend, if she’s honest, because anyone who can be in the same room as her while she writes has to be at least a friend. But he’s just that - a friend, her roommate, and nothing else. _

_ So she ignores the bubbling in her stomach, the claw scratching down her ribs, the voice in her head screaming. And, it appears, so does Benvolio. _

_ “Yeah, she’s an old friend of ours who’s in town.” He slips on his shoes while at the same time trying to roll up his sleeves. “You should come, you’d like her.” _

_ The thought of spending the evening watching Benvolio flirt with other people - her insides grow hotter. “Thanks, but no thanks. Don’t wanna crash boy’s night.” _

_ Benvolio raises an eyebrow. “I just told you - “ He stops, jaw ticking, and shakes his head. “You know what, that’s fine. We probably need to spend time with other people anyway.” _

_ “I am getting a bit sick of you,” she says, a complete lie, and this one he catches because he just smirks. “Have fun.” _

_ “Don’t stay up!” _

_ Rosaline does, in fact, end up staying up. She spends most of her time mindless browsing the internet and when she yawns, she realizes it’s almost midnight. Closing her laptop, she stands and stretches, prepared to head to bed. _

_ Her eyes catch on a colorful image on Benvolio’s desk. _

_ As an unspoken rule, neither of them had seen each other’s work. She keeps her writing on her laptop, to herself, and he keeps his paintings and drawings packed away and hidden. But this sketch - colored and mostly finished - lays on the very top of his desk. It’s visible. _

_ It’s gorgeous. _

_ The lion has brown skin with black hair - but unlike Scar, it looks kind and gentle. It’s the eyes, Rosaline quickly realizes; Benvolio has drawn the eyes to be black, but tinted it with subtle grays and yellows, making them appear warm and welcoming. Without thinking about it, she stands before his desk, her finger outlining the figure on the page. The lion is really a lioness, since there is no mane. _

_ It’s Iris.  _

_ She’s so surprised at how perfect this sketch of a lioness fits her story she doesn’t register the lock shifting and the door swinging open. Only when Benvolio stops at the sight of her does she remember she broke their unspoken rule. _

_ “Shit.” Rosaline drops the drawing and turns to him. His face remains blank. “Ben - I’m sorry - it was on top and I - ” When he doesn’t say anything, she grabs the paper and steps forward. “Listen for a second, okay? I - she’s perfect.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “She’s perfect.” Moving to his side, she shows him his drawing, her hand on his arm. “This lioness - this is Iris. I mean - right now, I had written her as a  _ human _ , but this - ” The pieces are quickly falling together and she beams. “This is perfect! I was trying to make it a novel - but it should be a picture book! For children.” _

_ Benvolio stares at her, blinking, his fingers itching towards the sketch. She lets him take it and Rosaline lets out a deep breath. _

_ She squares her shoulders and faces him straight on, hands on both of his arms now. “Do you want to draw the illustrations for my book?” _

_He remains blinking at her, and suddenly she realizes - he could be drunk, or not completely sober, and now she’s throwing all of this at him all at once - and this was after he had just discovered her looking at his_ private art _-_

_ “Don’t move.” Rosaline opens her laptop, resting it on a bent leg in the air, and opens up the document. Scrolling to the beginning of the passage she had been working on, she slowly walks back over. “I want you to read this.” _

_ His hand reaches out to hold her laptop. “You - you want me to read your writing?” She nods. “Are you sure?” _

_ “I saw your drawing. I think it’s only fair.” _

_ Benvolio frowns but doesn’t object. He takes her laptop and sits down in his chair by his desk. As he reads, scrolling, Rosaline paces just beside him, watching his face flicker only just barely: a widen in the eyes or thinning of his lips or the subtle rise in his eyebrows. For the most part, however, his face remains impassive. _

_ Finally, he turns to her. “This is amazing.” He grins widely. “Like - really amazing.” _

_ Her shoulders relax. “Really?” _

_ “Really.” He scrolls up. “This part - where you describe Iris - ” He picks up his picture and places it on the keyboard. “If she were a lioness - ” _

_ “That would be her.” Rosaline tangles her fingers together. “I really think I need to rework it - and make it a picture book. A children’s book. Which would need illustrations.” _

_ Benvolio stares at her, his eyes hard and searching, and she feels so vulnerable under his gaze. It registers to her that he’s still dressed in his going out attire - the glasses and the button up and his stubble shining in the harsh lighting of their apartment. Rosaline knows he’s attractive - she lives with him, has seen him walking around in nothing but a towel hung over his hips - but in that moment -  _

_ He blinks. He grins. “I would love to draw for your book.” Her face spits into a beam and Benvolio laughs. “This is crazy - I’ve never drawn for a book before!” _

_ “And I’ve never written a book before,” she says, half a second away from bouncing. Benvolio stands, still grinning, and Rosaline steps towards him. “Thank you, Ben.” _

_ He looks down at her, soft gaze and tiny smile. “Thank  _ you _ , Ros.” _

_ His lips seem redder than normal. The corner of his mouth twitches under her gaze and Rosaline feels his breath on her hair, on her skin. His eyes capture hers; they’re not quite the blue that she had thought, but rather tinted with green and brown. Rosaline feels herself lean closer. _

_ But then her stomach clenches. And she remembers - and backs up quickly. “Um, I’m - it’s late. I should - ” _

_ Benvolio rubs the back of his neck, nodding, and maybe he hadn’t noticed anything - hadn’t noticed how badly she wants to kiss him - before looking at his feet. “Right. Me too. I think - Mercutio and Romeo were really drunk so I’m exhausted now - ” _

_ “Of course.” She doesn’t move. “Um - did Stella get home okay?” _

_ She curses herself as soon as she says it. _

_ Benvolio stares at her, forehead crinkling just slightly, before tilting his head. “Yeah. She left early. Why’d you - ” _

_ “Well, good night!”  _

_ Rosaline spins around and practically runs to her room. Collapsing on her bed, she replays those final moments over again: finding his drawing, showing him her writing, deciding to collaborate on a children’s book, standing so close to him - where she could see the freckles in his eyes and feel unspoken whispers showering over her. Rosaline sighs. _

_ She likes him. _

_ She  _ likes _ him. _

_ She’s screwed. _

_ Closing her eyes, Rosaline hopes she doesn’t dream of him too. _

* * *

Benvolio is pointedly sober when he escapes to the balcony for fresh air. With his tolerance, two shots in two hours does nothing - but finding Mercutio leaning against the railing and yelling at pedestrians down belows leads to a pounding headache anyway.

“THERE’S MORE OF US THAN THERE ARE OF YOU, MOTHERFUCKERS.”

“Okay let’s - not - do that.” Benvolio pulls Mercutio back, cutting off a  _ we’re the children of the revolution, motherfuckers _ before shoving a cup of water in his hands. “Drink.”

Mercutio does - but too quickly, downing the entire thing, and Benvolio grimaces when his friend clutches his stomach. “Ugh. I hate water.”

Benvolio pats his shoulder. “Where’s Adrian?”

“Sleeping. Helping people. Being a fucking good person.” Mercutio sinks down to the ground, curled into himself. “Can’t believe he got stuck with me - ” He starts gagging and Benvolio knows what happens next; but before he can grab a pot or bucket, Mercutio vomits on the ground beside him.

“Fuck.” Benvolio sighs. “Stay here, let me find Juliet to find - something - to clean this up.” Mercutio groans, leaning his head back, and says nothing. “Fuck.”

 

 

When the loud music and smell of alcohol becomes too much, Rosaline slides open the balcony for some fresh air.

And she almost steps in vomit.

“Yeah, better watch it.” Rosaline grimaces at the man sitting curled up on the floor, holding his stomach. “You must be the roommate. I’m Mercutio. I’m drunk.” 

“I see that,” sighs Rosaline. Stepping back inside, she shakes her head. “Stay there, I’ll get something to clean that up.” Before he can say anything, she slides the door closed and heads to bathroom to grab cleaning supplies.

She spots Livia on the dance floor, arms around a man she vaguely recognizes as Paris, a friend of Esclaus’. They’re close, swaying with increasing intimacy, especially when Paris’ hand slips down to Livia’s lower back and she giggles into his shoulder. 

Distracted by her sister, Rosaline bumps into Isabella. And, of course, she’s with her brother.

In the half second she has to possibly escape, Rosaline remembers - she remembers sitting in the park, holding hands; she remembers stealing a kiss at her front door, his hands on her face and back against the door; she remembers laughing, sitting on the couch cuddled together paying no attention to the movie playing. And she remembers him opening his door with a stricken look, before sighing and saying goodbye. 

And then it’s too late.

“Rosaline,” he says. Escalus stands awkwardly, half-hidden by sister. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” Rosaline quickly turns to Isabella. “Do you know where the swiffer is? Someone threw up on the balcony and - ”

Isabella grimaces and points to a closet beside the kitchen. “Juliet was just going after it though, but I think there’s another one.”

“Thanks. It was nice seeing you,” she says to Escalus, quickly and without looking at him, before slipping away. Her heart races and she refuses to look back, not even when she grabs the extra swiffer and jet pads. Purposefully picking a different route back to the balcony, she manages to avoid Escalus.

But when she slides open the doors, the balcony is empty. And clean.

The chill of the night picks up her hair and twists it around her shoulders. Frowning, Rosaline glances around - there’s no Mercutio, no vomit, nothing. 

Shivering, she heads back inside.

* * *

_ They’ve been working together - well, together, except when Benvolio works on his other pieces or Rosaline has writer’s block and works on blog posts or articles - for almost a month when Rosaline has a meeting with a possible publisher. _

_ Benvolio offers to join her, but she declines. “They don’t know about the illustrations yet. That’s - I have to tell them.” She wrings her hands together. “I need to do this alone, you know?” _

_ “I know.” And he does. _

_ So Rosaline goes, alone, and Benvolio stays behind. _

_ Somewhere between breakfast and lunch - they had made dinner together last night, and Rosaline made sure to make just a bit extra for him to have the next day - Benvolio pushes away from his desk and stretches. _

_ His back twists, trying to loosen his muscles from sitting hunched over as he traces out an illustration for their book. Rosaline likes to leave him snippets of her writing to prompt his sketches, and in return, Benvolio leaves absent doodles to inspire her writing. It’s a symbiotic relationship, a mutual cycle of art and art, and Benvolio feels that all of his work benefits from just the little bit of Rosaline he can insert into it. _

_ His eyes catch on the maroon journal sitting on the coffee table. Usually, Rosaline writes on her laptop - but Benvolio’s noticed that some nights she scribbles in the book, biting her lip and casting glances over at him when she think he doesn’t notice. He’ll make a comment about how she chews her pen caps and she’ll throw them at him in response. _

_ Even as he walks over to it, even as he sinks into the couch and gently lifts the journal, he knows he shouldn’t do this. He should drop it, take a walk, go back to work. But, as he runs his thumb down the spine, the book can’t seem to leave his hands. He flips open to a random page. _

_ He freezes at the words  _ cock _ and  _ thrust _ and  _ screams _ \- he almost drops the journal, flinging it across the room, fully prepared to pretend he hadn’t seen anything at all -  _

_ Until his eyes catch on one other word:  _ Ben.

_ His eyes blur, trying to read as much as possible as fast as possible.  _ When Ben thrusts into her with his cock, she screams silently, completely full.  _ Benvolio knows exactly what he’s reading and he cannot bring himself to stop. _

_ Nor, when he finally reaches the end, does he really want to. _

_ Instead, he grabs scratch paper and a pen - and he begins sketching. He draws her, dark skin and deep eyes, lip between her teeth. And he draws himself - or the version of Ben written in these pages, with sharp lines and tender edges, with soft hands that dull the cut of his sharp tongue. Benvolio reads and draws, and reads and draws, his hands aching against the strain of constant movement - but he doesn’t stop until he’s shading the shadows under Rosaline’s breasts. _

_ And before he can close the journal and shred the drawing and pretend the words and pictures are not etched into his brain, the door swings open and Rosaline returns home. _

_ She stops the doorway, mouth slightly open, likely at the sight of him sitting on the couch reading her private journal, an erotic sketch lying flat on the table.  _

_ “You motherfucker - ” _

_ “Rosaline, listen - ” _

_ “I can’t  _ believe  _ you! You know how much sharing - personal - how much that - “ _

_ “I didn’t mean to! I just - I accidentally - and then I couldn’t  _ stop _ \- and I - “ _

_ Rosaline drops her bag and rips her journal out of his hands. Her gaze falls to the drawing and she freezes, shaking fingers reaching out. “You drew this.” He nods and she lifts it, studying it. “You read my private journal - without permission - and you  _ drew this _.” _

_ Again, Benvolio nods. “I really - I wanted to stop - but I saw - “ He gulps and Rosaline meets his eyes without wavering. “I saw my name. And then - I had to draw it - ” _

_ Shaking, Rosaline shakes her head. He thinks there’s a tear in her eye; his stomach lurches. “You drew - you drew  _ us _ \- like this?” She steps closer to him. “Is this how - no - I’m sorry - you’re my roommate and I shouldn’t - we’re partners but - ” _

_ Her words wash over him quickly, a quick switch from cold and concern to warm and frustrated. He steps closer to her. “You shouldn’t what?” _

_ Rosaline clenches the drawing tightly. “You’re my roommate. We can’t. I’m sorry about  _ this,”  _ she shakes the journal in front of her face, “but we - we can’t.” _

_ “Can’t?” He tries to move closer but stops him with her hands on his chest. The sketch is seared onto his skin from the heat oscillating between them. “Which implies that you want to.” _

_ Rosaline opens her mouth for a second before closing it. She shakes her head, curls falling in front of her face. “We  _ can’t -  _ ” Her head shakes more sharply, stronger. “This isn’t going to work, Montague, we’re working together and living together, we can’t be  _ sleeping _ together too - it’s not going to work - I can’t believe you  _ read  _ \- ” _

_ “Oh for the love of God, Capulet, stop talking,” he says, ripping the sketch away from her hands and dropping it on the floor.  _

_ “Stop talking?” She straightens, glaring, her fingers gripping at his shirt. “Oh, make me, you arrogant son of a - ” _

_ Benvolio kisses her, hard and fast, his teeth knocking against hers before her lips press back. Her hands grip tighter on his shirt and his arm wraps around her waist, pulling her as close as he can. He needs her as close as possible, because her breaths taste like strawberries and coffee and her hand snakes up to his hair, tugging tightly as if she wants to be close to him too. _

_ He backs her up until her knees hit his desk. Moaning into his mouth, Rosaline lifts her leg to wrap around his hip and Benvolio unconsciously bucks into her, bending her backwards. Kissing down her neck and along her collarbone, he vaguely registers that his artwork is still littered across his desk - except some papers have fallen to the floor, along with a cup of his pencils. _

_ Rosaline’s hand slips under his shirt and runs up his side. Making the split-second decision, Benvolio grabs her ass with both hands and lifts her; she squeaks, wrapping her legs tightly around him as he carries her over to the couch. _

_ “What was wrong with the table?” she asks between kisses and pants, pulling his shirt completely off.  _

_ Benvolio unbuttons her top and kisses around her bra. “I figured you didn’t want charcoal all over you.” Annoyed by the lacy fabric getting caught in his mouth, he pulls down the cups to expose her breasts completely. Smirking, he flicks her nipple with his tongue; Rosaline moans, her hand running up and down his back as if coaxing him to continue. “Figured couch would suit us better.” _

_ Rosaline lifts herself up, removes her bra, and tosses it across the living room. “Much better.” _

_ Benvolio does not disagree in the slightest. _

* * *

Isabella finds her in the corner, sipping on the last of the orange juice.

“Why are you avoiding Escalus?” Leaning against the wall, Isabella lowers her voice. “I thought the break up was all good?”

Rosaline looks down, swirling her red cup. The yellow juice looks too thick and too bright. “It was.” Her head hits the wall when she sighs. “He’s not my soulmate.”

Isabella raises an eyebrow. “So?”

“He’s - ” Biting her lip, she tries to pick the right words to describe the pit in her stomach, the awkwardness that covers her skin whenever she thinks of him. “I know who my soulmate is now, and I know it’s not him - and - ” Rosaline lets out a deep breath. “I always thought it would be.”

Smiling softly, Isabella gently takes her hand and holds it in both of hers. Her eyes flicker from their hands to the dance floor. Livia laughs when her dancing partner twirls her. “You and I both know soulmates aren’t the be-all end-all of love.”

Rosaline nods, catching her eye again. “Right. But these dreams - when I’m with  _ him _ , whoever the hell he is - “ She gnaws at her lip again, flashes of charcoaled hands and scruff under her fingers and his bright eyes concentrated on her - “it’s different than it was with Escalus.” The corner of her lip tugs up. “Ironically, it feels more real.”

“Not a crush?” Isabella drops her hand and crosses her arms. “More like a partner? An equal?” Rosaline nods. Isabella sighs. “Okay, I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Escalus - ” Isabella looks down at her shoes, shifting weight between each foot, before catching Rosaline’s eye again. “He never had dreams.”

Rosaline blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” says Isabella, pushing her hair over to one side. “So when you two were getting so serious - and then he turned 23 and didn’t dream of you - or of  _ anyone _ \- he thought it was best that - well, he let you go.” Isabella shrugs. “I don’t necessarily agree with his decision, but it was his decision.”

Thoughts race too quickly for Rosaline to grab onto them, to process. But her heart beats, steady and firm, and even if her mind isn’t quite settled, her tongue moves. “Okay.” Rosaline nods, slowly, shaking away confusion and focusing on the calm suddenly settling in her chest. “It’s a good explanation. But - he hurt me too much. But. I think - “ She runs one hand up and down her own arm. “I think I can live with that.”

Isabella smiles almost sadly and Rosaline aches for her best friend’s happiness. “Good. It’s important to me that you and my brother can be civil, after all.” Rosaline laughs and Isabella hugs her. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Rosaline glances around as Isabella lets her go. The crowd has shrunk, but the vibrations of bass and dancing feet still amplify the raised voices of drunk randoms still in their apartment. “I know this is technically my party, but - ”

“Hey,” says Isabella, holding her hands again. “Go to bed. I’ll clear them out.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Rosaline hugs her again before heading straight across the living room to her own room. She arrives mostly without obstacle, only bumping into one person on her way - she doesn’t even see his face, just his back and a muttered  _ sorry _ , before he disappears - and when she finally leans against her shut door in the quiet sanctuary of her empty room, she sighs in relief. She strips and gets ready for bed.

And when she hears Isabella yelling at everyone to clear out, Rosaline smiles to herself before slipping under the covers.

 

 

When Isabella begins to shoo everyone out, Benvolio goes to collect his best friends.

Mercutio stands, unsteady and leaning against a wall but standing nonetheless, right outside the bathroom. “Home,” he says when Benvolio reaches for him, leaning on him for support. 

“Of course.”

Half-dragging Mercutio along with him, Benvolio sees Romeo a moment later. Unsurprisingly, he’s in a tight embrace with Juliet, lips locked and completely unaware of the audience they’ve collected. Rolling his eyes, Benvolio tugs on Romeo’s shoulder.

“Hey, Romeo.” Benvolio tugs harder and finally, the couple separates. “We’re leaving now.”

Romeo pouts, hands still intertwined with Juliet’s. “But  _ Ben _ \- ”

“Now.”

Sighing, Romeo nods - but not before leaving a lingering kiss on Juliet, a grin on his lips. This time, Isabella pulls them apart with a quick word about  _ sleep _ and  _ late _ and  _ Rosaline. _

Romeo throws his arm around Benvolio’s shoulder, his hand grasping Mercutio’s elbow. “Let’s go home, boys.”

Benvolio leans across his cousin. “Thanks for having us, Isabella, Juliet.” He spots Livia on the couch, deep in conversation with a brunette with gelled back hair. “Tell her too.”

“And Rosaline!” says Mercutio, voice muffled since he speaks into Benvolio’s shoulder. 

Isabella grins and nods, helping the three out the door. “Get home safe!”

Benvolio nods, supporting both of his friends’ weight as he drags them to the taxi and to their apartment. Despite battling both drunkenness and exhaustion, Mercutio and Romeo manage to find their respective beds and when Benvolio places water and aspirin by each, they’re already fast asleep.

Benvolio manages to take off his shoes before he collapses on his bed.

* * *

_ They don’t notice the smoke until it’s too late. _

_ When she sends a blast his way, Benvolio ducks under his chair. The spaceship shakes precariously. “Capulet! Cease your fire - I will have you captured before you could even blink - “ _

_ Another shot, another chair destroyed. _

_ “Save your threats, Montague.” Rosaline steps out from behind the door separating the main brig from the rest of the ship. “I will be returning you to  _ my _ planet, where the bounty on your head will more than pay for - “ _

_ She stops talking, face suddenly stricken, and Benvolio quickly seizes the opportunity to grab her. “Didn’t think you would be so easy - “ _

_ Grunting, she elbows him the stomach with enough force and surprise that he lets go. “ _ Idiot _ Montague! Look what you’ve done.” She heads straight for the control panel, quickly flipping switches. Benvolio shoves her out of the way. _

_ “It’s  _ your _ ship that tried to hijack mine. And you’re the one shooting directly into the autopilot controls - ” He ducks beneath the panel to find a button, vaguely noting that Rosaline has taken a seat in the co-pilot station, her fingers running quickly over the keyboards. “We just need to - ” _

_ “EMERGENCY EMERGENCY.” The loud beeping of their emergency system screams through the speakers, accompanied by the feared flashing red lights. “SYSTEMS DISENGAGED. CRASH LANDING IMMINENT IN 60 SECONDS.” _

_ Rosaline’s colorful swears sound foreign to his ears, but Benvolio has studied enough of her native language to understand the gist. He finds his feelings are mutual. _

_ “Don’t you know how to pilot this thing?” she yells, quickly strapping into her chair.  _

_ Benvolio pushes himself into the one beside her, doing the same. “Of course I do! But usually the entire dashboard isn’t  _ on fire _.” _

_ Her fingers tense around the armrests. Benvolio has a sudden urge to wrap his hand around hers, despite trying to break those same fingers only minutes before.  _

_ “30 SECONDS UNTIL CRASH LANDING.” _

_ “Capulet - ” he starts, because he knows some about the planet they’ve been hovering - are about to crash into - and he knows that in order to survive - “we’re going to have to - ” _

_ “I know, Montague.” Her eyes flicker to him; for once, she lets him  _ see _. “I know.” _

_ “CRASH LANDING IN 10.” _

_ “If I - if I don’t - ” he starts. _

_ “CRASH LANDING IN 8.” _

_ “Don’t.”  _

_ “CRASH LANDING 6.” _

_ Benvolio turns forward, watching the planet grow bigger and bigger -  _

_ “5!” _

_ Rosaline moves in the corner of his eye. _

_ “4!” _

_ Her hand reaches for his. He grabs onto hers. _

_ “3!” _

_ Her grip is tight and deadly, but he doesn’t let go. _

_ “2!” _

_ Benvolio closes his eyes. _

_ “1!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was a long one! I really appreciate all the feedback I've been receiving - please keep it coming! I intend to finish this fic within the next month and I could use all the encouragement I can get.
> 
> Shoutout to anyone who ever responded to my random questions on twitter who's answers may or may not have ended up in the chapter.


	4. so i keep you in my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benvolio needs a female perspective and Rosaline hates lizards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two scenes in this chapter where I do not own the dialogue. You'll all recognize the first and a number of you will recognize the second. Only the narration there is mine.

_ The first thing Rosaline notices is the ringing in her ears. _

_ After that, it’s how her skin feels like it’s peeling. Her hand sticks to her face, the hot ground burning her palm, her limbs twisted between the eroding leather seat. _

_ Finally, the blood.  _

_ Her head hurts.  _

_ Slowly, Rosaline stretches out her legs and arms. Her wrist throbs, but a quick check confirms it’s just twisted, not broken. There’s several cuts on her legs and her back feels bruised, but she can gingerly stand.  _

_ Immediately she notices the smoke billowing from the trees. The wind, however, scatters the exact location - probably for the best - so Rosaline only knows that she’s been thrown from the ship. And by the looks of it, her chair and its protective pod the only reason she’s still alive. _

_ Closing her eyes, she thinks. She remembers - docking onto the ship, cornering him on the Bridge, accidentally blasting off the controls, holding his hand as they crashed -  _

_ Her eyes fly open.  _

_ The Montague. _

_ Quickly scanning her surroundings, she sees nothing but cement and dirt - yellow dirt for miles, almost like desert, dry and flakey. Rosaline drags her feet closer to the road. In the distance she thinks she spots a metal vehicle heading towards her. _

_ A car. _

_ With a person. _

_ With a Earth person. _

_ A  _ human _. _

_ Swearing, Rosaline makes a split second decision. Thanking all the Stars for her humanoid figure, she quickly switches her language settings to  _ auto  _ before flattening her hair and straightening her clothes - or whatever rags remained on her body. _

_ The car slows, then stops. _

_ “Can I help you?” A man sticks his head out the window, a friendly smile on his face. “You look like you could use a ride.” _

_ Rosaline smiles back, hopefully friendly and not at all pained, since her head still aches. “Have you seen anyone else around here? We got separated in the crash and I can’t find him - “ _

_ The man’s eyes widen and he parks the car. “A car crash? Oh - no wonder - “ He leans over and opens the passenger side door. “Why don’t I drive you into town? You’re in the middle of the desert - and while Roswell isn’t the prettiest place, it’s at least got cell service.” _

_ Rosaline hesitates by the car. “I’m looking for - I - “ Her grip tightens over the door. “I need to find him.” _

_ The man smiles again - it’s warm and friendly and soothing and Rosaline can for a second forget the turmoil rolling in her gut - before nodding. “We’ll find him, okay? I’ll drive slow around the area - and if not, he may have the same idea, heading back to town.” _

_ Grudgingly, Rosaline can admit that he has a point - annoying and egotistical and dangerous as the Montague is, stupid he’s not. Slowly, Rosaline takes a seat and closes the door. “I’m Rosaline.” _

_ “Escalus.” _

_ Escalus. The name feels foreign on her tongue but it’s not unpleasant. She smiles at him again.  _

_ “So, Roswell? What’s it like?” _

* * *

_ Rosaline inhales deeply, still steadying her breathing after the conclusion of the chase - of the murder, really, since the one behind the chaos lies dead on the floor of Verona’s dirt road. But her mind whirls, pieces falling into place - and Benvolio, circling her, nodding - _

_ “But if we could find out, then Montagues and Capulets would have a common enemy. And with our families united - ” _

_ “There will be no reason for us to marry.” _

_ Benvolio grins, the setting sun glaring across his sweaty forehead; the freckles of dirt across his face only highlight the sincerity of his smile. “And here I thought you were counting the hours.” His face softens, just slightly. _

_ Rosaline scoffs, just as slightly, shocked that he remembers her own words to use against her. Raising an eyebrow, Rosaline tries not to allow the corner of her lip to curve upwards. His eyes flicker over her, searching, and she can’t look away. _

_ She doesn’t really want to. _

_ Benvolio steps back, licking his lip, the smirk on his mouth still clear on his face even when he turns away from her. Rosaline stares at his back for only a moment before picking up her skirts and running home. _

_ His face - his words - echo in her mind all the way back. _

* * *

_ The first thing Benvolio notices is that he’s moving. _

_ After that, he recognizes the pounding in his head and the ache of his muscles. As he slowly opens his eyes, he tries to stretch out, but his feet hit a solid metal door and his arms smack into a clothed seat. _

_ Finally, he notices the woman driving the car. _

_ She’s pretty. Blonde, shooting concerned glances at her rearview mirror. Benvolio tries to sit up, winces at the sharp pain in his side, and lays back down.  _

_ “Oh good, you’re awake.” The woman, who wears a blue apron and has her hair tied back, reaches over to the seat beside her before tossing back a towel. “For that blue goop all over you.” _

_ Benvolio frowns. He checks his language translator - still on auto from his flight - before glancing down at himself. _

_ It’s not goop. It’s blood. He’s bleeding. _

_ Slowly, Benvolio sheds his already ripped shirt. As he wipes away the blood, he lets his hand hover over his skin - a flash of warmth, and the cuts heal, smooth skin coated in crusted blue blood - the only evidence of any injury at all. _

_ Benvolio sits up. “Who are you?” _

_ “Stella,” she says. Her smile is small but kind and she turns left when desert turns into buildings. “I found you in the middle of road - I was heading to work but I figured - ” _

_ “Where are we?” He wipes away sweat and blood from his face, wincing when he hits another cut. This one he leaves alone. “I mean - ” _

_ “Roswell.” Stella parks the car right beside a building,  _ The Crashdown _ clearly visible on its front sign. “Why don’t you come in? There’s a phone inside - is there someone you could call - ” _

_ Panic. Benvolio throws open the door; Stella follows him towards the diner, almost jogging to keep up with him. _

_ “What’s - wrong - ” _

_ Benvolio lets out a breath and stops. “You didn’t see a woman anywhere did you?” Stella shakes her head. “Shit. I need to find her.” _

_ “Who?” _

_ Benvolio pushes open the door to the diner and freezes. A quick numbness overtakes him and he keeps his face carefully impassive. “Rosaline.” _

_ Her head wipes around to face him. Even as Rosaline looks him up and down, he remains perfectly still - despite a sense of relief evading him at her presence, his back still tenses. Rosaline stands and walks over, frowning, and Benvolio doesn’t know whether to strangle or kiss her. _

_ When she hugs him, he chooses to hug her back. _

_ “Don’t even think about leaving my sight,” she hisses into his ear, nails digging just slightly into his arms. _

_ Benvolio bites back a smirk, tightening the embrace instead. When she gasps, his stomach lurches. “Wouldn’t think of it.” _

_ Rosaline lets him go and Benvolio watches her. _

_ “You must be Benvolio, then,” says the man still sitting in the booth.  _

_ Shooting a quick frown at Rosaline, Benvolio nods. “Yes. And you are - ” _

_ “Escalus!” Stella steps in between Benvolio and Rosaline, heading straight for the other man. Escalus stands to greet her. “Where were you this morning - ” _

_ Escalus nods towards Rosaline. “Found her in the middle of the road.” He frowns. “How did you - ” _

_ “Same.” Stella turns back with a fond smile on her face. “Looks like we reunited the couple, Esc.” _

_ “Couple?” Rosaline looks panicked, but Benvolio lets the grin from earlier settle over his face. _

_ “Yeah!” Stella beams and Escalus looks just as pleased. “I mean, he looked really upset - ” _

_ “Yes,” interrupts Benvolio smoothly, moving to Rosaline’s side. She looks at him in shock when he grabs her hand. “We’re together.” He quickly searches for the right word. “We’re - dating.” _

_ “Dating,” repeats Rosaline, and he suspects he’s the only one who hears the disbelief in her voice. _

_ Benvolio looks her straight in the eyes, ignoring her nails digging into his palm as if they wanted nothing more than to draw blood. In fact, that’s likely their exact intention. He, however, has different plans.  _

_ To stay alive. _

_ To get back home. _

_ Or some sort of home, since his birthplace currently wants to kill him. _

_ But to do that -  _

_ “Yes,” he says, narrowing his gaze to just her, to just Rosaline, ignoring their foreign surroundings and lack of ability to communicate with their home planets and the two kind strangers watching them. Keeping his voice steady, he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “She’s my - beloved.” _

_ Rosaline’s hand squeezes his and her eyes flash. Taking a step forward, she takes the same hand and wraps it around his arm. She turns to Escalus and Stella. “Thank you for bringing me back to my love.” _

_ Rosaline understands. He knew she would. _

* * *

The next morning, Benvolio collapses on the empty couch, massaging his temples as he lays straight out. Romeo sits in the armchair by his head.

“Dream well?” His cheery voice leaves Benvolio wincing, as if  _ he’s _ the one who should be rocking a hangover.

Benvolio sighs. “Why are you so cheery?”

“Water and aspirin,” says Romeo, taking another bite of the egg sandwich in his hands. He frowns thoughtfully as Mercutio lifts Benvolio’s feet to sit on the couch under them. “And I may still be drunk.”

Mercutio chuckles. “Either way - you look dreadful.”

Benvolio only glares. He covers his face with his arm, a slight throbbing humming behind his temples.

“You still dreaming of her as your writer roommate?”

Sighing, Benvolio shakes his head. “No. We’re aliens, crash-landed at Earth. Pretending to be a couple.” He frowns, flashes of memories still vivid behind his eyelids. “We hated each other - but we had to work together to survive.”

“Aliens? Seriously?” Mercutio taps Benvolio’s ankle as he chuckles. “Okay, that’s just weird. Adrian and I just had a shared sex dream - and then the next day we made it reality.”

Romeo throws a pillow at Mercutio so Benvolio doesn’t have to. He’s very grateful.

Mercutio hugs said pillow to his chest, tilting his head thoughtfully. “So this girl - let’s call her wifey - ” Benvolio snorts. “Is wifey attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Sane and rational?”

“For the most part.”

“Fulfills all your fantasies, sexual and otherwise?”

Benvolio pauses. “Not - really?” He sits up now, able to ignore the rising headache. “But - it’s like - ” He waves his hand around, trying to find the right words. “She challenges me. I feel like she knows me, without even really trying.”

Mercutio raises an eyebrow. “Wifey’s a keeper.” He glances over at Romeo who shrugs. “Okay - so you still don’t know her name.” Benvolio grimaces, bending his knees and letting Mercutio turn on the couch. “What do you remember?”

“Her face,” says Benvolio quickly. He frowns. “The three of us - we’re always friends - and Stella - she shows up. It’s like - the same cast of characters, even on her side -  _ her _ friends - ” Sighing, Benvolio tries not to let the frustration show on his face, even as his fingers scratch at his beard. “I just can’t  _ recognize _ them.”

Mercutio leans against the couch. “You’ll find her, Ben. I’ve never heard of anyone who hasn’t.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Benvolio catches Romeo shift in his seat. “What?” he asks his cousin, who looks sheepish.

“My mom and dad weren’t soulmates - but you knew that.” Benvolio glances at Mercutio before nodding carefully. Romeo stretches out in his seat, his fingers playing with the fabric of the armchair. “Well - they never found them. Their soulmates.” He looks up at the ceiling, to avoid their eyes Benvolio suspects, frowning. “They never say it, but they were never in love. Just - I guess the family pressure got to them so they decided to marry and have me.” He laughs bitterly, a foreign sound from his mouth and Benvolio turns completely to watch his cousin.

“Imagine that,” says Mercutio, looking just as intrigued, “the romantic grew up with loveless parents.” 

Romeo catches Benvolio’s eye. “Yeah but I had a cousin who loved me.” 

Benvolio throws the pillow at him in an effort to keep his blush hidden - Romeo grins at him, though, catching the pillow midair. His gentle nod and soft eyes remind Benvolio that no matter how bad his parents were - Romeo’s his cousin, his best friend, his real  _ family _ . Benvolio sighs, a smile tugging on his lips. “So you’re saying that  _ I’m _ the reason you grew up to be such an idiot.”

“Yes. Exactly.” The laughter eases the headache and now only his chest is heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. As the chuckles fades, the three sitting in companionable silence, Romeo leans back against his chair and stares at the ceiling again. “I think my dad’s gay, honestly.”

Mercutio sits up straighter. “Really?”

“Well - okay, you know how I met Juliet?”

Benvolio doesn’t know whether to grin in fondness or wince at the memory. “When we crashed the Capulet company party.”

“Right. Because the Montague and Capulet companies don’t get along, blah blah blah - ” Mercutio waves his hand dismissively. “Your dad is  _ gay _ ?”

“Well according to our Aunt Tessa - Dad and Mr. Capulet were  _ partners _ .” The emphasis of the last word and Romeo’s raised eyebrow leave no doubt his implication.

But just to be sure - “Business partners?” asks Benvolio, sitting up straighter. 

“No.  _ Partners _ . In college.” 

“Like - ” 

“Holy shit, your dads are gay!” Mercutio grins. “This is fucking amazing.” 

Benvolio leans on his elbow. “I’m guessing the break-up wasn’t amicable.” 

“Nope. My dad got hired at the top new company while Capulet worked for his family’s company - ” Romeo stretches his legs straight as he shakes his head and sighs. “And then I guess there was some sort of fall-out - and now they hate each other and their companies are rivals and Juliet and I have to pretend we don’t like each other when we really wanna fuck each other’s brains out.”

Benvolio tilts his head. “Huh. That’s another thing.”

“Another what thing?” Mercutio raises an eyebrow. “You wanna fuck Juliet’s brains out?”

Rolling his eyes, Benvolio otherwise ignores him. “Montagues and Capulets. The families always hate each other.”

“Huh.”

“Interesting.”

Benvolio lays back his head on the couch as Mercutio and Romeo continue their discussion about Mr. Capulet and Mr. Montague - gay ex-lovers, apparently - while his thoughts continue to race. The headache resurfaces just behind his eyes, a constant, dull annoyance - as if the more he continues to  _ think _ , the more pain rises.

Closing his eyes, Benvolio tries not to picture her face. He fails.

* * *

_ She’s too mad to supervise his tracking. _

_ “You told them we’re  _ dating _! Like - we’re having  _ romantic relations! _ ” _

_ Benvolio glances back at her, slightly smirking, as if that would help calm her down. He keeps walking forward, his arm glowing as he tracks down the ship. “You went along with it.” _

_ “Like I had a choice.” She did, she realizes - but the moment the words left Benvolio’s mouth, there truly wasn’t a way around it. They were  _ dating _. Survival trumps her pride. _

_ “Look,” he says, turning completely and pausing. The glow of his arm highlights odd angles on his face, and not for the first time, Rosaline questions if the man in front of her could have possibly committed the murder he’s been charged with. The exhaustion and resignation in his jaw clash violently with the softness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. But they had already assumed - and we couldn’t just let them know we’re  _ aliens. _ ” _

_ “Shut  _ up _ ,” she hisses, glancing around. Of course, it’s completely still. Sighing, she grabs his arm. “What’s done is done - let’s just find the ship and get off this planet so I can get my payment.” _

_ Benvolio watches her as she flicks through the maps on his tracker. At some point, it finally registers that she’s holding onto his wrist.  _

_ She drops it immediately. _

_ Benvolio smirks.  _

_ “What?” _

_ Shaking his head, still smirking, he points behind her. “I found it.” _

_ And indeed, behind her is the wreckage. Rosaline heads straight for it, ignoring the way her stomach burns and her fingers still tingle from where they touched him.  _

_ Rosaline hates Benvolio Montague, murderer and wanted fugitive. She is merely using him to get home - and then she will get the money she earned and fly back to her sister and never see the bastard ever again. _

_ But for now -  _

_ “Shit,” he says, kneeling amongst the burning metal. He shifts around some of the wreckage and Rosaline leans over him as he pulls out a black box, carefully sealed and mainly intact. “Communicator box.” _

_ “And?” _

_ He shoots her a glare before tapping on the box. As he continues to mess with it, Rosaline crosses her arms and watches. Even as he frowns, biting his lip, she admits to herself that he confuses her - when she had reached for his hand as they were crashing, it had been in fear and a need for someone -  _ anyone _ \- to anchor her even as everything burned around them. _

_ But now - on Earth - he sticks with her. He pretends to be in love with her. Calls her  _ my beloved _. _

_ Rosaline sinks to her feet. The man before her doesn’t look like a murder, dirt caked on his face as he clenches his jaw in thought. The man before her, who catches her eye and brightens at the sight of her necklace - this man, this Benvolio, is something else. _

_ “Can I borrow that?” He points to her neck, to the pendant that rests there. Rosaline frowns but hands it over. “Thanks.” _

_ His finger skims over the top of the pendant, flipping a switch, and it glows green. With a smirk, he aligns the key with its lock and the black box clicks open. _

_ As Rosaline puts on her necklace again - the masterkey Livia had bought for her before their parents died - and as Benvolio studies the insides of the box, she has to admit. She’s impressed. _

_ He doesn’t need to know that, though. _

_ “So? Can we contact someone?” Rosaline leans into his space, trying to catch a better glimpse of the contraption in his hands. _

_ Benvolio glances at her sideways but he keeps his attention downwards. “I think so.” There’s a hesitation and Rosaline is immediately suspicious. “We just need tabasco sauce.” _

_ Rosaline sighs. “We have to back to the diner.” _

_ “We have to go back to the diner.”  _

_ When he refuses to meet her eyes, Rosaline frowns as they walk back to town in silence. _

* * *

When the door swings open, Rosaline doesn’t expect to find Escalus waiting.

“Oh. Hi.” He lowers his arm, stuffs both hands in his pockets, and shrugs. “Isabella here?”

Rosaline glances backwards at the silent apartment, still partially trashed, but mostly dark. “She’s actually still asleep.” Lifting her keys, she tilts her head. “I was just about to go out to grab coffee and breakfast.”

Escalus looks down. “Oh. Right. I’ll come back later - ”

“Come with me?”

She decides in the split second the words pass her lips that she sincerely  _ means _ it. It’s been long enough - almost three years since the break-up, since he turned twenty-three - and, frankly, she misses him. 

She misses her friend.

Escalus must miss her too, or at least she hopes so, because there’s a small smile creeping onto his face. “If you’re sure?”

Rosaline nods.

Escalus grins. “Lead the way.”

They walk side-by-side, hands in their pockets, elbows an appropriate distance apart. The silence hovers thick and awkward, but Rosaline isn’t sure how to break it. She  _ should _ break it, start conversation, since this was her idea anyway. She clears her throat.

“So, you’re doing your masters, right? Psychology?” asks Escalus, speaking first, and Rosaline tries not to sigh in relief. “How’s the job search going?”

The relief shifts quickly into unease. “It’s going.” She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes and notes that his shoulders are very stiff. Sighing, she turns to him as they wait to cross the street. “Honestly, I have no idea what I want to do after graduation.”

This smile is soft. It reminds her of when they were kids, when Rosaline would stick to him like a shadow, Juliet and Isabella and Livia playing around them. 

Nowadays, Rosaline thinks she’d play with them rather than wait beside a boy.

“I didn’t either,” he says, and Rosaline knows this. “You know how Dad pushed me into politics - ”

“Is that - still - ” The light turns green and they cross the street. “You still sticking with that?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I’m - ” he pauses at the corner of the street and Rosaline almost trips. “I don’t know.”

Rosaline lets herself smile. “Looks like we’re both in the same boat after all.”

A long pause, his impassive face revealing nothing, before - “Yeah, I guess we are.” He starts walking again and she falls in step with him before they reach their favorite diner. The bright blue sign - with a golden  _ Stella’s _ outlined in black - hangs above their heads when Escalus pulls open the door. 

Rosaline frowns but says nothing as she lets him hold the door open for her.

They get all their food to-go - breakfast sandwiches for Livia, Juliet, and Isabella, an omelette for Rosaline, a bagel for Escalus, and plenty of coffee to go around, plus a chai tea for Livia - but Escalus hesitates for a moment. 

Rosaline raises an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Hold that thought.” Without another word, Escalus disappears into the dining area, crowded on this Saturday morning. Rosaline catches sight of him in the back corner, hugging a blonde waitress, grinning widely. There’s a slight pang in her chest - but only slight, more of a memory, a tiny tug of  _ longing _ , not jealousy. And when the waitress beams back, laughing and kissing his cheek, Rosaline smiles.

He’s happy. That makes her happy. 

Escalus returns, slightly flushed and still beaming. “Sorry - that’s Stella - her dad owns the place - ”

Rosaline grins. “ _ The _ Stella, huh? I’ve seen her around here quite a bit.” She nudges him gently with her shoulder, since her hands are filled with food and drinks. “Are you two - ”

Escalus carefully removes the bag of food from her hands. “We’re friends,” he says quickly to the floor. “Shall we?”

Rosaline bites back her smile - but it quickly fades. When they return to the street, her stomach starts to churn. “Um - Isabella told me - “ Escalus looks over at her, frowning, and she sighs. “She told me that you didn’t have any dreams.”

Escalus stops walking. Rosaline pushes him gently to the side of the street. 

Before he can open his mouth, she shakes her head. “Don’t blame her, okay? I needed to know.” She adjusts the cups in the holder, not quite ready to look at his face again. “I just - I get it, okay?” Sighing, she looks him straight in the eyes. “I understand. I’m still a bit - upset - and hurt. But that I can get over, now that I know. But - now - ” Glancing back at the diner, the sign flickering in the sunlight, Rosaline bites her lip. “What’s different now?”

Escalus scratches his temple, readjusting his grip on the bag in his hand. “Stella - she’s in the same situation I am.” When Rosaline furrows her eyebrows, he steps beside her, so they both face the street, watching people walk past them. “She already had her dreams.”

“But?”

“But - ” he looks down at his feet. “She already knew her soulmate. Already loved him too. But - you know how some people don’t marry their soulmate? They love them, learn to love them, maybe - but it’s - ” He shakes his head. “It’s  _ different _ . It’s not less, or not enough, or anything like that. It’s just  _ different _ .”

Rosaline blinks. “You’re not making sense.”

Escalus sighs, frustration clear on his face. He turns to face her, eyes suddenly very clear, jaw tense. “I didn’t have dreams because Isabella -  _ she’s _ my soulmate.” When Rosaline just continues staring at him, he continues. “Obviously - she’s my sister. And Stella - her soulmate is her best friend, but she doesn’t want anything else - it’s completely platonic.”

“Platonic soulmates.” Rosaline grabs the cup of coffee she’d reserved for herself. Taking a long sip, she lets the new information roll around her head. “But Isabella - ”

Escalus’ smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can have more than one soulmate, Rosaline.” He shifts his weight to another foot. “Some platonic, some familiar, some romantic.” Shrugging, he turns back to the girl’s apartment, waiting for her to lead them again. “Some people are always in your life, no matter in what form.”

Rosaline steps beside him. Half in the middle of the sidewalk, someone nudges past her, knocking her slightly - luckily none of the drinks spill, but when she turns to frown, she only sees the person’s back, head covered by his gray hoodie, before he disappears into  _ Stella’s _ .

Steadying herself, Rosaline stands in line with Escalus as they walk forward. “I like that.” They stop at the intersection, Escalus’ words still echoing in her head. “Some people are always in your life.” She turns to him and tilts her head; the seriousness of his face melts into softness, as the corner of his lips tug upwards, his jaw relaxes, and his eyes look brighter. Smiling, Rosaline faces forward. “I hope you stay in my life, Escalus.”

“Me too, Rosaline.” His voice is soft, lighter and freer, and in that moment, Rosaline knows: this is better than any romantic date could have been. 

The light turns green.

* * *

_ When Benvolio enters the Crashdown, he tries to focus solely on obtaining tabasco sauce. He refuses to think about anything else - about how Rosaline’s face flickers between dislike and confusion, how he likes holding her hand, how the communication device will only reach  _ his _ planet. _

_ Instead, he walks over to an empty table and grabs a half-filled bottle of tabasco sauce. So focused on his task and not thinking about anything else, he misses Stella appearing out of nowhere. _

_ “Benvolio!” She looks around. “No Rosaline?” _

_ Benvolio pockets the bottle in his belt as he quickly grins. “No! No - just you and me.” He leans against the table, running a hand through his hair. “I just - wanted to see you,” he lies easily. _

_ Stella raises an eyebrow. “Um - Benvolio - ” she frowns slightly, especially when he accidentally takes a step closer to her, still smirking. “You have a girlfriend.” _

_ It takes a moment to process what she’s saying. Benvolio tilts his head. “Yeah. I do. So?” _

_ Stella’s frown grows deeper. “Sit down,” she says pointing to the booth. Benvolio glances at the doorway but does as he’s told - something about the way Stella crosses her arms and how serious her face is… “Look,” she says, sitting down across from him, “I don’t know how long you two have been together, but this isn’t okay.” _

_ Benvolio blinks. “What?” _

_ “You can’t just flirt with other girls - ” Benvolio opens his mouth but Stella keeps a hand up to cut him off. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt - since it looks like you really love your girlfriend - as long as you promise to never do it again. Rosaline seems like a good girl, and so do you, so I don’t know what’s going on, but - ” _

_ “Everything okay over here?” _

_ For the first time in six months, Benvolio feels relief at seeing Rosaline standing in front of him. “Ros! What are you doing here?” He narrows his eyes slightly.  _

_ “You were talking too long,” says Rosaline, waving away his concern. Right behind her stands Escalus glancing between him and Stella, frowning. “Ran into Escalus who had questions about where we from and where we’re going and things like that - ” her wide eyes assure Benvolio that she feels just as cornered as him. _

_ “Verona,” says Benvolio, recalling a book Romeo had once forced him to read. “We’re from there.” _

_ “Italy, really?” Escalus glances over at Stella, who shrugs. “You guys don’t have an accent.” _

_ Before Benvolio can say anything, Rosaline pulls him up. “We were just visiting! My sister. But we’re - travelers.” She nods interlocking their arms together. “Yes. Travelers - we like to travel places.” _

_ Benvolio nods along in agreement. _

_ “C’mon Esc, leave them alone.” Stella nudges Escalus slightly, smiling, but she shoots a pointed look at Benvolio. “They’re in love and traveling the world. It’s cute. It’s romantic.” _

_ Escalus raises an eyebrow. His eyes land on both of them - including their joined hands - and Benvolio sees the other man soften just slightly.  _

_ Rosaline grins - fake, too much teeth and a tense jaw. “Yes we’re completely and utterly in love. I love him. Benvolio.” _

_ His name sounds stilted from her lips, but it’s still his name and it’s still her lips and he has to stare down at her after. He can feel Stella’s eyes on him. Rosaline looks up at him and he drops her arm. _

_ “Right, love?” says Rosaline, fake smile and bright eyes, but she stutters on her words. Her eyes are very brown. “Just tell them - ” _

_ Benvolio grabs the back of her neck and pulls her towards him. _

_ He kisses her. _

* * *

_ “Mr. Montague!” _

_ Benvolio frowns at the interruption, but quickly straightens when he realizes who’s standing in his doorway. “Ms. Capulet? What’s wrong - “ _

_ “There’s a lizard in my room.” Some of the students start whispering and Benvolio rolls his eyes before moving towards Rosaline. She keeps her voice low, but they both know it’ll be useless. “Livia - ” _

_ “Say no more.” Benvolio grabs an empty bucket before turning to his class. “Ms. Capulet is going to watch over you all for a minute - keep working on those still-life sketches! I want you to start painting when I get back.” _

_ The whispering doesn’t die down, but it does shift to something more productive, as scratches of pencil across paper resume. Rosaline leans against the wall. “Thank you - ” _

_ Benvolio smirks. “I should tell Livia to let animals lose more often, if that’s what it takes to get you to visit - ” _

_ Rosaline pushes him out of the classroom -  _ his classroom _ \- and slams the door in his face. _

_ Benvolio chuckles; he turns to find half of Rosaline’s history class staring at him from across the hallway. Rolling his eyes, he shoos them back to their seats. _

_ “Alright - everyone sit on your desks - someone tell me what you’re learning about while I track down this lizard.” _

* * *

_ Rosaline splashes water on her face. _

_ Even as she wipes her face dry, her lips still tingle. Where his lips had - where he had -  _

_ She should feel gross, disgusted, ready to tear him apart, limb to limb - he’s a  _ murderer _ , a fugitive -  _

_ But whenever she closes her eyes, all she can see is Benvolio’s smile and bright eyes and his lips - soft, pink,  _ kissing her  _ \-  _

_ The water rushing out of the faucet bends to the left, then the right, spiralling - Rosaline inhales deeply and exhales loudly. The water calms too. _

_ When the door swings open, Rosaline feels relatively collective; her lips still feel the ghost of Benvolio’s though. _

_ “Hey.” Stella closes the door, leaning against it. “You okay?” _

_ Rosaline forces a smile. “Yeah. Just - today’s been a lot, you know?” _

_ Stella stays smiling, warm and friendly, and Rosaline feels slightly guilty for all the lies. It doesn’t help when Stella’s smile turns teasing. “He seems like a good kisser.” _

_ “Uh, yeah,” says Rosaline, looking down again as she tosses her wet paper towel away. “He is.” _

_ “You’re lucky, you know.” Stella stands beside her now, staring at her own reflection in the mirror. Rosaline recognizes the look in her eye - she’s seen it on her face, back home,  _ before _. And she’s seen it on Benvolio’s face, just earlier that day. _

_ Resignation. Longing. Admiration. _

_ “Why?” she asks, genuinely curious. _

_ “You’ve got someone who cares about you.” Stella turns, one hand still on the sink, the other on her hip. Even with the small, warm smile that Rosaline quickly recognizes as her signature look, she looks both confident and kind at the same time. “And you mentioned a sister, right?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “See - family.” With arms at her sides, Stella nods firmly. “I’m sure you’ll find them soon.” _

_ A brief shot of panic - “How did you - ” _

_ Stella laughs. “It’s pretty obvious you two are lost. You should stay at Esc’s place.” _

_ Rosaline raises an eyebrow. “Are you allowed to just invite people over?” _

_ Stella rolls her eyes and waves her hand. “Given how he can’t stop staring at the two of you like you’ve hung the moon - ” Stella shrugs, arms crossed now. “I’m sure he won’t object.” _

_ So Rosaline shrugs too. “We could use a place to stay.” _

_ Beaming, Stella wraps her arm around Rosaline’s and leads them back out. _

_ When they return, Stella informs Escalus they’re housing their new friends. _

_ “We?” asks Benvolio, staring at Stella and Escalus equally, but avoiding looking at Rosaline completely. “You live with him?” _

_ Stella blushes only slightly. “My - situation - ” Sighing, Stella leans into Escalus’ hand when it rests on her back. She shakes her head. “Escalus rented out an extra room in his apartment to me when his sister moved out.” _

_ Rosaline glances at Benvolio; he’s already looking at her. He smiles. Rosaline snaps her focus away. “So - you’re roommates.” _

_ Escalus frowns, glancing down at Stella. “Yeah - I guess we are.” _

_ This time, when Benvolio catches her eye with a tiny, knowing smile, Rosaline doesn’t look away. _

* * *

When Benvolio enters  _ Stella’s _ , he heads straight for his usual table.

Five minutes later, a cup of coffee slides towards him. “Good morning. You look awful.” Benvolio grimaces and Stella grins. “I kid, but you don’t look so good.”

“Tired.” He dumps five packets of sugar into his cup while Stella slides into the booth across from him. “Party last night - Merc threw up, Romeo was making out with his girlfriend all night. The usual.” Stella grins, taking a drink from her own cup of coffee. “I can wait until your break - ”

Stella shakes her head. “I’m not working today. Just came in to cover the beginning of a shift, but they showed up.” She tilts her head, eyes searching him, before she frowns. “Seriously, Ben - you okay?”

Benvolio stares at his coffee. It’s summer, but his fingers still crave the heat from his cup. “The dreams finally started.”

“Really?” She sits up straighter, leaning forward. “And?”

“And - I have no idea who she  _ is _ .” Grunting in frustration, Benvolio tightens his grip on his mug. “Like - I can  _ see her face _ , I remember everything about these crazy dreams - it’s been three nights so far, and each time it’s been some different -  _ world _ .” Sighing, he leans forward on his elbows, hands running through his hair. “Like last night - we were aliens. But we were also teachers? I was looking for a lizard - but I also had a sword and it was like it was Shakespearean times or something - ” He finally catches her eye. “It switches, back and forth - but I can never remember her name.” 

Stella slowly leans back, thoughtful. “I’ve heard of that before. I had a teacher in high school - apparently she dreamed of her soulmate - but, like,  _ through _ her eyes. So finally she looked in a mirror and looked at her driver’s license - ” She smiles. “It’s only been three nights, Ben.”

“I know, but - ” He shrugs. His body feels heavy, burdened, his thoughts unfocused and fleeting. There’s a disconnect, an unnerving sensation crawling through his spine. Shaking his head, he tries to concentrate - his coffee, the diner, Stella. His fingers play with the zipper of his gray hoodie. “You’re in them, too.”

She pauses mid-sip. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He wipes thumb across the edge of the mug, pushing sugar back into the center. “You, Romeo, Mercutio - ” a smile tugs at his lips. “No matter the world, you three are always there. My best friends.” 

When he finally brings the coffee to his lips and drinks, he can look Stella in the eyes. She stares back, eyes unreadable. 

“What?”

Stella blinks, lowering her mug. “I’ve heard rumors. Things - rules, or whatever, about soulmates.” Pausing, she slowly lets the words out. “Do you - do you think - “ She sighs, shaking her head.

“ _ What _ ?”

Stella meets his gaze. “I think you can have platonic soulmates.” After a beat, she adds: “like you and me.”

Benvolio blinks, several times, processing her words. Until, finally, it clicks. “You dreamed of me. But - like - ” he waves his hand between them, “platonically.”

Stella’s smile is sad, not reaching her eyes, but there’s a brightness to it anyway. “I think I did.” 

She takes a long sip of her coffee and Benvolio does the same. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable, and Benvolio watches as his coffee disappears. The diner continues to live - guests eating and laughing, the aroma of breakfast slowly fading into lunch. Benvolio leans back into his seat and Stella mirrors him.

“What if I don’t find her?”

Her hand reaches out, lying lightly on his forearm, her thumb running across his skin. “You will.” She draws back, biting her lip. “This probably won’t help but - I did hear a rumor.” Benvolio looks at her, willing her to continue, and Stella downs the rest of her coffee before doing so. “Apparently - if, after seven nights, you still don’t find your soulmate - ” She shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “Then you never find each other.”

Benvolio blinks. Even as he drinks more coffee, his throat remains dry.

“It’s just a rumor, though,” says Stella quickly. “I’ve never heard of it actually happening.” Leaning forward, she lowers her voice - soft and sincere, calm and firm. Benvolio reflexes even before she says anything. Her hand is back on his arm again, but this time she leaves a gentle, comforting squeeze. “But Ben - if there’s anyone in this life who deserves happiness - it’s you.”

Benvolio looks at his empty mug. 

Her face stares back at him.

* * *

_ The air mattress set up in Escalus and Stella’s living room is uncomfortable. _

_ But, with enough pillows and blankets, and a longing look at the sofa, they are able to make the most of it. _

_ Benvolio lays on his back, staring at the tiny bumps on the ceiling; they remind him of stars, of lying outside with Romeo and Mercutio, trying to name new constellations and planning future visits to distant galaxies. _

_ He closes his eyes to push back tears. _

_ “They’re really nice, aren’t they?” Her voice is soft in the dark room. The mattress squeaks and he thinks she lies on her back too. “At least  _ someone _ in the galaxy understands hospitality.” _

_ Something in his heart cracks in that moment.  _

_ “Capulet - I - ” He lets out a deep breath in an attempt to steady his voice. He turns his neck to look at her. Her curly hair frames her profile, but he can still see the whites of her eyes. ”I don’t want to fight anymore, okay?” Her neck turns too, in surprise if her expression is anything to go by, and Benvolio lowers his voice even more. “When we get back - you know - it’s - ” he closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens his eyes again, Rosaline stares back. “When we get back, it’s back on, you chasing me and I - I’ll run away. I get it.” His voice drops to barely a whisper, barely an echo of the breathes leaving his throat and lips, as if the words need to be stuck in the air between them instead. “But right now? Here? Can we just - ” _

_ “Truce.” She turns completely to her side. “I - I don’t know - ” She struggles with words too and her breath is hot on his face. “I think - I don’t think I know the full story, about you - and the - the murder.” The hand not cradling her face draws absent lines between them. “But until we can get back, and have a trial for you - ” _

_ “There won’t be a trial.” Benvolio turns to his side too. “I confessed.” _

_ Rosaline searches him, and maybe when her eyes falls to his lips, he gulps. And maybe when her finger pushes back his hair from his forehead - maybe then his heart clenches tightly in his chest. “But you’re innocent.” It’s not a question, but a factual statement, as if there is nothing else she is more certain of. He doesn’t know how she knows, but the tenderness in her voice leaves no doubt that she  _ knows _. _

_ He doesn’t respond.  _

_ He can’t. _

_ So instead he joins his fingers with hers in the foot of space between them.  _

_ “Goodnight, Capulet.” _

_ “Goodnight, Montague.” _

_ They fall asleep like that, with hands intertwined. _

* * *

_ The graveyard in the nighttime is quiet, only the echoing shouts of the previous fight still lingering in the air. Rosaline reaches out to him. _

_ “You’re hurt!” _

_ “ ’Tis nothing,” he protests. Blood coating his fingers, the rush of water over cloth. Rosaline feels a pang of sympathy - he did just save  _ her _ , after all -  _

_ “Nothing it may be for one so stalwart as you,” she says, “but since we of the weaker sex are known to swoon at the sight of blood, if you are a courteous gentleman you will let me clean it for you.” _

_ Pain - a hiss - his gaze, piercing her, the fire of torchlight flickering in the shadows between them. _

_ “A lady of your beauty is right welcome to swoon into my arms whene’er you wish.” _

_ Embarrassment - a veil of hair - denial. _

_ “You seem not like a lady given much to swooning, anyway, from what I’ve seen,” he says. _

_ “Not much, sir. Swooning stains one’s gown with earth.” _

_ “But not if one is there to catch you, lady.” _

_ “ ’Tis true. But men can’t be relied upon to follow me about with outstretched arms, and so I think it best to stay upright.”  _

_ His name. Benvolio. _

_ Her name. Rosaline. _

_ Shock. Anger. Bitter laughter. Gravestones - “Mercutio.” “Paris.” “Tybalt.” _

_ The statues of Romeo and Juliet stand tall. _

_ “Look upon thy handiwork.” _

_ Insults - burning, fiery anger - a sharp slap across the face, both of their skins stinging -  _

_ “I go,” she says. “For repelling your brutish kin, you’ve my thanks. I shall show my gratitude by troubling you no longer. Good night, sir.” _

_ He follows. “ ’Tis not a safe night for a lady alone. I’ll go with you.”  _

_ “Your kinsmen have taught me well how dangerous this night is. But I’d rather let the villains hack me to bits than go one step with you.” _

_ His clenched jaw - her hardened eyes, heart racing - boiling tension in the air, thick with unease and questions -  _

_ “As you wish, my lady Rosaline. And if you meet with more brigands who wish you harm, do give them my compliments.” _

_ “I shall, for they will likely be your kin.”  _

_ She wishes to never see him again. _

_ She does not receive her wish. _

* * *

Isabella adds Rosaline, Livia, Juliet, Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio to  _ ‘the Dramatique’ _

Isabella: i figured it was time

Isabella: for future party coordinating tbh

Rosaline: really? it’s been one day

Mercutio: one day is long enough 

Benvolio: i can barely deal with a gc with Romeo and Merc i don’t need this

Romeo: don’t be rude

Isabella: rude

Benvolio: you know what i mean

Rosaline: you guys have fun but i’m gonna stay out of it

Benvolio: yeah i’m out too

Romeo: ofc you are

Juliet: typical

Rosaline: what is that supposed to mean?

Romeo: live a little!

Juliet: you’re being a fun sponge

Juliet: like at your bday party!

Benvolio: i can have plenty of fun without you all blowing up my phone

_ Rosaline leaves ‘the Dramatique' _

_ Benvolio leaves ‘the Dramatique’ _

Mercutio: tell me you didn’t see that coming

Isabella: totally saw that coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for this chapter being shorter... 
> 
> I really appreciate all the feedback I've been receiving! Thank you all so much.


	5. but - ‘til - i - so (we’ll fight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benvolio makes a decision and Rosaline writes a poem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, there's a section of familiar text in here that I do not own.
> 
> Shorter chapter this time, but the next one will likely be a doozy (and take a while), so hopefully this will hold you over until then.

****_One time turns into four._

_The first time is awkward; they are both painfully sober, choosing an easy Saturday afternoon, with no frat party to host or sorority function to plan. There’s fumbling hands and laughter as they explore each others bodies, speaking only briefly -_

_“Is this okay?”_

_“Yes, god - yes, good, this is - good - ”_

_\- and Rosaline comes apart twice, once with his fingers and tongue, and once with him inside her, kissing her neck and ears and jaw and lips._

_There’s silence when they lay side by side on his bed, sweat and sheets and slow breathing. At some point, Benvolio finally tosses out the condom, and Rosaline takes that as her cue to replace her clothing and leave._

_“You don’t have to - ” he starts, standing naked in his room, but Rosaline shakes her head and avoids looking at him, even though she’s licked that chest, massaged those thighs, kissed those lips._

_“Yeah, I do.”_

  
  


_The second time is frantic. They’re bar hopping, for once, an attempt of a mixer with the older - legal - members of the Greek society. And when Benvolio slides up behind her on the dance floor, Rosaline lets him sway in time with her hips, lets his hands linger on her waist, lets herself lean into him. And when she turns and searches his lips with her own, and when she drags him into the bathroom -_

_“What happened to just one time?” he groans as she unbuckles his belt._

_“Changed my mind.” Pausing, she stills completely. “Is that - ”_

_Spinning them around, he pins her against the wall. “Yes.” He grabs her waist and kisses her._

_And kisses her._

_And_ kisses _her._

_And even though they stop holding hands once they leave the bathroom - clothes askew, lips swollen, guilty smiles - they remain side by side the entire night; Benvolio walks her home._

  
  


_The third time is slow._

_She finds him sitting on the steps outside a library on her way home, knees curled up, vacant eyes staring at his phone._

_Sitting down beside him, Rosaline doesn’t say anything._

_“My Uncle called,” he says, eventually, staring at his feet._

_“Do you want to talk about it?”_

_Benvolio shakes his head._

_“Do you want to be alone?”_

_Benvolio shakes his head._

_Rosaline holds his hand, instead, in the dark on the cold steps, as they both sit there in silence._

_And then - “let’s go home,” he says. But when they reach her House, they keep walking, all the way to his. And Rosaline doesn’t protest when he leads her up to his room, holding her hand. She doesn’t protest when he dumps his bag, and hers, on the floor, or when he holds her face and kisses her._

_Rosaline doesn’t protest when he worships her, twice, with his mouth, before even thinking of anything else._

_And she definitely doesn’t protest when after he finally comes, her name on his lips, he cradles her into his chest and kisses her hair._

  
  


_The fourth time is perfect._

_It’s easy. A quick text - “mind if I come over?” and a quick reply - “you’re always welcome.”_

_They laugh, a lot, especially when Rosaline decides she wants to know more - about what positions he likes, about the differences between being with a guy and a girl, about whether he likes more tongue or lip when she blows him._

_It’s hot, because whether they start against the wall, or on the floor, or on the bed, Rosaline always ends up falling apart under his touch, and he always_ , always _makes sure she’s taken care of, which only leads to her coming more and more - and neither complains, until they’re sore and tired and laughing in satisfaction._

_So, after - they stay in bed. And they talk._

_“I may be failing my econ class.”_

_“I think Isabella and my sister are dating.”_

_“Romeo wants to propose to Juliet.”_

_“Juliet wants to accept.”_

_“My Aunt isn’t my biggest fan.”_

_“My Uncle isn’t mine.”_

_“I like - having sex with you.”_

_“I can get used to this arrangement, too.”_

_And if Rosaline falls asleep in his arms, her leg curled around his waist, and if Benvolio falls asleep with a small smile on his face, neither really mind._

* * *

Sunday morning, Rosaline wakes up and stares at her ceiling.

Eventually, she turns to check the time on her phone - it’s almost 10, and she can hear Livia in the shower. It’s late, for her, but for whatever reason, Rosaline stays put.

She stays lying on her back and stays staring at the ceiling.

“You skipping brunch?” asks Livia, in a floral pink dress.

“Not really feeling it.”

Livia frowns and steps over her bed. “You okay?” Rosaline shrugs. “If you want me to stay - ”

Rosaline shakes her head. “Go, have fun. Let Isabella buy you a mimosa.”

Grinning, Livia kisses her forehead. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite sister?”

Rosaline finally turns over to her side with a roll of her eyes and Livia laughs before leaving.

Several minutes must pass before Rosaline sighs and sits up in her bed. The door to the apartment has locked shut, she knows, and Isabella and Juliet’s heels no longer echo. Now alone, Rosaline curls her knees into her chest. Her head feels foggy, not quite able to concentrate on anything; instead, she feels - light, not quite there, like a feather slowly sinking in the air.

Her fingers stretch out to her nightstand. Grabbing her tiny notebook and a pen, she turns to the first empty page. She begins to scribble letters and words without thinking about them, just hoping to get the fuzzy thoughts down on paper, into some sort of comprehensible artform, her thoughts blurring together into a mess of chaotic figurative language she doesn’t think even she understands.

When her pen stalls, Rosaline drops it completely.

And she re-reads her work: 

> _because of you, i no longer wonder._
> 
> _everything seems clearer, as if you are a_
> 
> _nudge in the correct direction, the breeze knocking against the_
> 
> _veil covering my eyes. because when my hand is in yours_
> 
> _only the sun can defeat us now. in the night, you_
> 
> _lift my soul with yours._
> 
> _in the sun, you linger. but maybe_
> 
> _one day my soul will lingers with yours too._

Frowning, Rosaline reads it again, and again. This isn’t her usual style, but when she tries to rewrite it, to fix it, she finds that she can’t.

So instead she flips to the next page and writes some more.

  


When Benvolio wakes up, he lies on his stomach with his eyes closed for a solid minute. He can hear the light rustles of Romeo and Mercutio in the common area, and at some point, his phone vibrates. Groaning, he quickly scans the text - _went to brunch, didn’t want to wake you_ \- from Romeo before burying his head under his pillow.

After lying in the room for what feels like hours, the sun still burning through his blinds, Benvolio sighs and rolls out of bed. It’s only just past 10 o’clock, but it feels like late afternoon.

When his eyes fall to his sketchbook lying on his desk, he picks it up along with a pencil. He sinks back onto his bed, pencil twirling between his fingers, and flips to a blank page.

His pencil stalls. There’s a nagging in the back of his brain, an image burned into the etches of his skull while also dulled by the remnants of sleep, and his fingers itch to recreate it. So he lets his hand move, without thought, just feelings: he sketches and outlines and shades, frowning in concentration.

When Benvolio pulls back and surveys his own artwork, he blinks.

Two people, lying on cloaks in the middle of the forest; they both lie on their sides, but the man faces her back, protecting her from the wind. There’s a peaceful look on both of their faces, eyes closed - but it appears as if he’s reaching out to her, despite how little distance is physically between them.

Staring at the sketch in it’s entirety - with the darkness in the sky and shadows from the trees and the empty space surrounding the two people, huddled close together - Benvolio feels his heart ache. It hurts for something unknown, not quite _identified_ , a ghost of something lingering between his fingers and the paper.

His thumb smudges a spot just above the couple’s heads, in the leaves of the trees. Frowning at the ink left on his skin, Benvolio sighs and flips over his sketchpad onto a new, blank page.

And then he continues to draw.

* * *

_Juliet sticks her head inside her classroom. “You got a second?”_

_“Uh, yeah,” says Rosaline, quickly counting the total points on the assignment she’s grading and circling the number at the top. She drops the pen and slumps in her chair. “What’s up?”_

_“Can you do me a huge favor and cover for me at the end of 8th block? That’s your planning, right?” Juliet pats her quite pregnant belly. “Got an appointment and it’d be super helpful if I could leave like thirty minutes early.”_

_Rosaline grins. “No problem. So around 3:20?”_

_“Perfect. I owe you, Ros.”_

_So at 3:20pm that afternoon, Rosaline finds herself in the drama wing of Verona High School._

_Juliet beams from across the auditorium when she sees her. “Perfect timing. They’re all practicing their assigned scenes from_ Romeo and Juliet _\- ” Rosaline rolls her eyes at this, but Juliet ignores her, “so they’re good as long as the noise level stays manageable. Remind them they’re presenting tomorrow!”_

_“Of course.”_

_And Juliet leaves, and Rosaline pushes herself up onto the stage, her feet dangling below, angling herself so she has a view of all the students and their groups. She recognize quite a few, including the girl to her right who immediately yells, “Ms. Capulet! What are you doing here?”_

_“Mrs. Montague had a doctor’s appointment so I’m covering for her.”_

_The student exchanges a look with her friend. “We thought Mr. Montague was - ”_

_“I was summoned?”_

_And indeed, Benvolio stands in the corner of the auditorium, backpack slung over one shoulder and laptop under his arm. Rosaline groans. “Like the devil.” The students next to her giggle. “What are you doing here, Mr. Montague? I’ve got it covered.”_

_“Well, Ms. Capulet,” he says, dropping the backpack and pulling himself up onto the stage to sit beside her, “Angelica told me Mrs. Montague needed a sub this block.”_

_Rosaline frowns. “I already told her I’d cover this morning.”_

_Benvolio grins. “Well, it looks like we’ve been double-booked.” He jumps off the stage. “In that case - ”_

_“Yes, please leave. I’ve got it covered.” Rosaline crosses her arms over her chest and turns her attention back to the students in their groups. The group closest to them, however, objects._

_“No, Mr. Montague, stay!” One student, a sophomore boy, shows him the scene they’ve been assigned. “You can help me with all this Shakespearean shit - ”_

_“Language!”_

_“ - stuff, because I’m stuck being Romeo.”_

_Benvolio glances at the scene. “Ah, Jul - Mrs. Montague would give you the balcony scene.” After a quick moment, where Rosaline suspects he debates whether he’d get caught leaving work early, Benvolio shrugs. With a smile, he nods. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”_

_The boy beams, Rosaline rolls her eyes, and Benvolio smirks before moving past her to join the group._

* * *

_At first, when Benvolio wakes up, he’s confused._

_It takes him a moment to understand why he can’t hear the steady rumble of his spaceship - or why Romeo is not asleep in the pod beside him - or why his fingers are intertwined with Rosaline’s…._

_Rosaline who believes he may be innocent._

_The same Rosaline currently lying on top of him, her foot between his legs and her arm across his stomach._

_Slowly, he untangles himself from her. He burns under her touch, almost like he’s suffocating, because she’s so close, but there’s an itch in the back of his brain - one that screams at him, the same yells that tell him to look over his shoulder, to be worried, to stand straighter._

_Escalus has a balcony in his apartment. Throwing on his pants and the jacket he had borrowed - cloth and with a hood, white strings hanging against the zipper - Benvolio slips outside and closes the sliding door behind him as he inhales deeply._

_The fresh air helps, a little, to stall the fire erupting across his body. But Rosaline still lays sleeping, just on the other side of the glass door, and Benvolio leans against the railing._

_A few cars travel below, but for the most part, the town is still sleeping, the dawn slowly waking up the busy souls. So for now, Benvolio is alone._

_His hand drifts to his pockets; he pulls out both the black communication device and the bottle of tabasco sauce. Eyeing them warily, Benvolio sighs before popping open the cover to the device and pouring tabasco sauce into the open hole the corner._

_The entire box quickly turns bright violet._

_“User recognized: Benvolio, of planet Montague, of system Verona.”_

_He hesitates - he had not been lying when he told Rosaline that he could contact home._

_But this device is a Montague device - it would only contact Planet Montague._

_Which meant - either stay on Earth forever, separating Rosaline from her sister and any chance of that bounty money, or return to planet Montague._

_Turn himself in._

_With a deep exhale, Benvolio flips the red switch._

_The static is immediate and annoying. “This is Communications Agent 559 of Planet Montague, System Verona - we have pinpointed your location to the Planet Earth, System Solar, who am I speaking with?”_

_“Rosaline of Planet Capulet,” he says quickly, not bothering to fake her voice. “I’ve captured the murderer Benvolio and would like safe passage from this planet in exchange for the fugitive.”_

_“Rescue mission confirmed. You should be picked up in 0500 hours.”_

_“And the bounty?”_

_“To be given at the time of the exchange.”_

_Benvolio bites his lip and nods at nothing. “Thank you, 559.”_

_The static and purple glow both cease immediately._

_He takes his time replacing the device back to how it was - flipping back the level, cleaning out the tabasco sauce, popping on the cover again. And eventually, slowly, he turns back to the living room._

_Rosaline still sleeps._

_Benvolio clenches the black box tightly, closing his eyes for just a moment - long enough for his heart to stop racing, for his stomach to settle, for the war between his instincts and his heart to calm - before sliding open the doors and returning to bed._

* * *

It’s Livia who brings it up.

“Has my sister even met your cousin?” she asks Romeo during brunch.

Romeo moves his arm from around Juliet to take a bite of his burger. “Actually, I guess not.” As he chews, he frowns thoughtfully.

“That’s strange,” says Mercutio, plate of french toast already empty.

“Very strange.”

“You know,” says Isabella, after a carefully long drink of her bloody mary, “they’d kinda be cute together.”

Livia grimaces, nudging her. “Don’t try to hook my sister up with anyone. You _know_ that it won’t end well.”

“...that’s what I usually say about Benvolio.” Mercutio’s face breaks out into a mischievous smirk.

Livia shakes her head.

But Juliet grins. “We’re totally setting them up, aren’t we?”

“Oh we’re _totally_ setting them up.”

And so, Isabella grabs Mercutio’s phone with one hand, hers in the other, and texts both Rosaline and Benvolio at the same time.

* * *

_“You did some acting, right, Mr. Montague?”_

_Benvolio laughs and shakes his head at the student sitting on the floor across from him.  They’re all sitting in a circle on stage. “Not really, just when I was in high school.” He leans back onto his palms, his eyes catching Rosaline’s, who moves around the groups sitting in the chairs. “Played Diesel in West Side Story.”_

_Rosaline must have heard him because she pauses in her circulating and moves closer to them. “Really?” She climbs onto the stage, arms crossed. “I was Rosalia. The Shark girl who wanted to go back Puerto Rico.” Benvolio opens his mouth to make a very pointed joke about the name - but Rosaline stops him with a hand. “Believe me, I know.”_

_Benvolio grins instead. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Ms. Capulet.”_

_She just rolls her eyes._

_The student playing Romeo sits up straighter. “You two should act this out!”_

_Another student in the group, a girl, grins widely. “Ooh, yes! Please! It’d be super helpful to see it - Mrs. Montague wants us to act it first, but - ”_

_“This is Mrs. Montague’s classroom, we should - ”_

_“Aw, Ms. Capulet, scared of showing off your bad acting?” Benvolio smirks, and while he suspects Rosaline knows exactly what he’s doing, she narrows her eyes. The challenge rises on her face. “We don’t have to do the whole scene,” he says, lowering his voice when he stands beside her._

_Rosaline frowns, glancing around the room - the rest of the class has quieted down, even as they remain where they are. Benvolio shoots a glance down at the group at their feet - wide eyes and eager smiles - and when Rosaline follows his gaze, she sighs. “Okay, fine.”_

_The group cheers._

_Benvolio grins and points at a line midway through the scene. “Start here?”_

_Rosaline nods, nose scrunched and Benvolio forces himself to pay attention to the script instead. She sighs beside him. Then she straightens and turns so they are face to face off to one side of the stage._

> **“** Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,
> 
> To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
> 
> Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
> 
> Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
> 
> And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
> 
> With repetition of my Romeo's name.”

_Rosaline speaks loudly enough that all the students gather closer to the stage. Benvolio watches her transform into a young woman in love, but there’s still a frown hiding on her lips and a furrow in her forehead. Benvolio smiles and speaks._  

> “It is my soul that calls upon my name:
> 
> How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
> 
> Like softest music to attending ears!”

_The words feel awkward on his lips, a little butchered and a lot out of rhythm, but the students don’t notice._

_The corners of Rosaline’s lips tug upwards. “Romeo!”_

_“My dear?” His grin may be tainted in a touch of sarcasm and Rosaline smiles wider at it._

_And when she drops the book all together, clasping her hands together and fluttering her eyes, Benvolio bites back a laugh. “So what time shall we get married?”_

_“How does nine sound for our totally rushed elopement?”_

_Some of the students giggle. Rosaline rolls her eyes. “Sounds good to me.” She pouts now, too exaggerated and a student groans. “It’ll be so long until I see you. Like twenty years.” She tilts her head and frowns. “Why did I even call you here?”_

_Benvolio steps closer to her, smirking without any innocence. “I can wait here until you remember.”_

_(A student wolf-whistles. “Yeah you can.”)_

_“Well I won’t remember if you’re here,” says Rosaline, and maybe her eyes soften just a little. “You’re too distracting.”_

_If her voice hitches, Benvolio may be the only one who notices._

_“Then I’ll definitely stay.” He wants to reach out, hold her hands. “So that you forget everything else. Except this.”_

_Rosaline swallows; she licks her lips and suddenly Benvolio is very aware of close they are, how she smells of lemon and lavender._

_Another student wolf-whistles. “Romeo is_ smooth!”

_Benvolio clears his throat and steps back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Indeed he is,” he says, addressing the students and ignoring Rosaline. He glances at the clock. “And you guys should all go ahead and get packed up, the bell’s going to ring soon.”_

_As the class claps for them, laughing and quickly talking amongst themselves, Benvolio glances at Rosaline, who stares back._

_She raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”_

_He shakes his head. “Nothing.”_

_It’s not nothing. It’s definitely something. But he isn’t sure what. Yet._

\--

Benvolio to “Rosaline Capulet”: hey Mercutio gave me your number this is Benvolio

Rosaline: hey Benvolio

Rosaline: look i’m sure you’re a perfectly great guy but i’m not really looking for anything right now

Benvolio: thats not why i messaged you

Rosaline: oh. sorry.

Benvolio: it’s fine just presumptuous

Benvolio: i know i’m a catch but lets try to keep it friendly Capulet

Rosaline: again, not interested, Montague

Benvolio: thats ‘cause you haven’t met me

Rosaline: i think meeting you might make it worse

Benvolio: i think you mean better

Rosaline: are you this obnoxious in person?

Benvolio: absolutely

Rosaline: then i’m definitely ok

Benvolio: suit yourself Capulet

 

Rosaline: why did you message me anyway

Benvolio: see you do like me

Rosaline: ugh

Rosaline: nevermind

Benvolio: but really, Merc said you were boring which in Merc-speak means you’re semi-responsible. and since it looks like our friends have decided to hang out more, i figured i’d ask if you wouldnt mind if i ever reached out if i needed another DD or support or something

Rosaline: ...you, responsible?

Benvolio: from time to time

Benvolio: you dont have to say yes

Benvolio: i get that it gets tiring after a while and that sometimes you just wanna be able to be the one who lets go and gets taken care of and everything so i get it if you say no

Benvolio: just thought i’d ask. just in case.

Rosaline: yeah that’s fine. back-up would be nice every now again

Benvolio: call me back-up Benvolio then

Rosaline: i think i’ll stick to Montague

Benvolio: as you wish Capulet

* * *

_They find Anthony “Tony the Snake” Rimaldi in an abandoned apartment building on Tuesday night._

_Rosaline leads them._

_“Did you really think you could hide, Rimaldi?” Rosaline leans against the wall as her coworkers - her_ family _\- rush into the room. Tony’s face, usually so cool, flashes with panic._

_“I - I didn’t mean - ”_

_“Didn’t mean to steal from my family and try to kill me when I found out?” Gramio punches him in the stomach and Tony bowls over in pain. Rosaline tilts her head. “Well this time I brought back-up.” Gramio kicks him in the shin. “And you know what happens next..”_

_Tony closes his eyes. “Yes.”_

_The gun in Gramio’s hand is steady, even after the safety releases. “Anyone we should inform?” Tony shakes his head. “Good.”_

_Gramio shoots Tony in the head._

_Rosaline doesn’t flinch._

  
  


_After the day she’s had - between Livia confessing to being in love with an innocent law student, the city’s chief detective’s son - and her ex - revisiting her life, and now finally tracking down Anthony Rimaldi after his attempt at robbery, Rosaline’s ready for a hot bath and a good night’s sleep._

_However, the moment she returns home to the Capulet mansion, Mr. Capulet appears in the foyer._

_“Rosaline,” he says, tone flat and hard. She knows that tone. “My office.”_

_So, dragging her feet, Rosaline follows him._

_When she enters, Mr. Capulet already sits at his desk, large and brown and wooden, his leather chair too big for the room. The scattered pictures - on the wall and across the desk - are mainly of the immediate family. Mr. Capulet. Mrs. Capulet. Juliet._

_It’s as if she and Livia do not exist. As if Juliet isn’t dead._

_Rosaline almost prefers it._

_“Sit.” There is a brief moment where she thinks about resisting his command, but she’s tired, and with the way Mr. Capulet glares at her, she decides to sit in the only remaining chair - smaller, wooden, and uncomfortable._

_“How versed are you in our family affairs?”_

_Rosaline frowns. “Very well, sir.”_

_“Of course.” Mr. Capulet pulls out a bottle of Scotch and only one glass. “So you know of our financial situation.”_

_Her gaze rests on the bottle as she shifts in her seat. “I know money - has been - tight.”_

_Mr. Capulet snorts, without humor, pouring alcohol into the glass until half full. “And you know we have been considering possible solutions.” This time Rosaline just nods. “According to my financial advisors - we will need to consider a merger.”_

_“A merger?”_

_“With the Montagues.”_

_Blinking rapidly, Rosaline leans into the desk. “You want to merge with the_ Montagues? _” Her laugh is loud and bitter, likely. “Why the hell would they ever agree - ”_

_“In exchange for taking on our debts, I’ve agreed to a wedding. Capulet blood under the Montague name.” His smile turns almost cruel. “And you will be the Capulet bride.”_

_Exhaustion no longer haunts her; it’s fury so red, so powerful, if she had an inkling that she could, Rosaline would have killed her Uncle right then._

_Instead, she keeps her face carefully blank. “Who am I marrying?”_

_“Benvolio Montague.”_

_Rosaline narrows her eyes. “There is no way in hell - ”_

_“This is not up for debate.” Mr. Capulet leans back in his chair. “You will marry the Montague, and you will secure the merger. And if you should resist - ” He reaches down into a drawer in his desk and draws out a package wrapped in red cloth._

_Rosaline knows exactly what’s inside._

_“You should know by now you can’t threaten me, Uncle.” Her eyes never leave his._

_Mr. Capulet leans closer now, smiling, and it’s the scary smile that leaves her with shivers dancing on her spine. “Oh, I know that you, Rosaline, are incapable of fear. For yourself.” His smile widens, into a smirk, toothy. “But your sister? How much do you value her life?”_

_She tries not stiffen, but Mr. Capulet already knows he has won._

_“You will marry Benvolio Montague in a month. We will have a large ceremony, with many guests, and they will all be witness to your great love.” His voice lowers. “But do not think I wish for the eldest heir of the Capulets to lose her name forever.”_

_He pushes forward the red velvet cloth._

_Rosaline blinks. “What - ”_

_“There is only one thing more valuable than combining our fortunes with the Montagues.” Flipping over the cloth, he reveals the gun. The gun sits silently, mocking her. “And that, my dear niece, is taking all of it under the name Capulet.”_

_And when Rosaline looks up, he pushes the gun towards her._

_She only hesitates for a moment before taking it._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [she looked like art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360562) by [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys)
  * [i'll mean something to you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791605) by [TheSushiMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster)




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